


Kiss Me One More Time

by ubercharge



Series: Kiss Me One More Time [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alcohol, Boys Kissing, Canon-Typical Violence, Gold Rush, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Respawn, Sexual Content, Top Sniper, bottom spy, i don't know how to tag on ao3, i love this tag fight me, long tags .. forgive me pls, plr_goldrush, respawn is important in this fic..
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3072185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubercharge/pseuds/ubercharge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The enemy shows Sniper shows Spy a bit of pity when all he wanted to do was stab him, now what does he do? Takes the shitty beer he's been offered, then falls into a long and convoluted issue that he absolutely did <i>not</i> sign up for. Spy thinks he can deal with long and convoluted issues if only he didn't have to deal with romance, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smoke at Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is self-edited.
> 
>  _Warning:_ Spy speaks a bit of French in the fic. You may or may not want to pull up Google translate. There are also plenty of references to the actual game, such as weapons and mechanics.
> 
> [Ramble alert. Skip if desired.] I wrote _Wolf Teeth_ (my previous and first Sniperspy fic) with fanservice, kisses, smiles, and swooning in mind. (Along with a different character’s POV.) _Wolf Teeth_ is happy as often as possible. So I decided to take a bit of a different route with _Kiss Me One More Time_ (which I will, from now on, refer to as _KMOMT_ whenever possible. Because the title is absurdly long).
> 
> Also, if you’ve read _Wolf Teeth_ , you’ll notice I used the same character names. The characters are still the same (except for some accent changes). Our RED Medic still owns both doves and crows. Our BLU Medic and Spy are still good friends. Our RED Sniper and BLU Spy still gravitate toward each other...
> 
> Anyway, this is partially because if I were to give our beloved mercs new names, I’d have to change them up personality-wise, too. Their names are a part of them. Think of them as my TF2 OCs if you’d like. I just put them in different situations.
> 
> For the time being, I consider _Wolf Teeth_ the ‘main’ universe, and everything else not part of its series, Moonlit Desert, is an AU of it. I think this because _Wolf Teeth_ has a substantial amount of story to it, but also because it’s happy. The happy universe should always be the prime universe, or we’ll all start crying more than we already are.
> 
> But I digress! I started _KMOMT_ in science class, when I had the slightest ghost of an idea in my head. I pulled out my notebook, started writing, and it just grew from there.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

The sun bathed the desert in gentle light perforated by the drizzle coming from the sky. It was streaked in the cool grey of the fading night and thin rainclouds, lit up with pale yellow and orange. Dawn had arrived.

A delicate curl of smoke dissipated into the cool air. Spy was watching the sunrise from outside of BLU base. In one of the many buildings that littered the isolated landscape, under a roof, he was dry. A bit chilly, but untouched by the rain.

He crushed his half-finished cigarette on the windowsill. Though he got up early enough every work day, it had been a while since he’d enjoyed the sunrise.

He still wasn’t sure what had brought him outside, onto the battlefield. It was peaceful when nothing was blowing it up. He scanned the horizon in appreciation.

There was something nice about watching the sun rise on a Monday morning, even if it heralded the start of the work week. Two beginnings. It was true that Spy didn’t expect anything new to happen, but he liked being out to watch the morning sky as colours flushed into the muted, fading night.

Somewhere in the distance stood the RED base, obscured by the battlefield’s buildings. The Spy wondered idly if anyone there was awake, too. It was pretty early, but he wouldn’t be surprised; both teams were filled with unpredictable people.

Without another thought, he stood, turned, and left to make himself breakfast.

 

By noon, the clouds had cleared, and the heat was beating down on everyone.

The Spy was hovering right around the corner from the enemy Engineer’s nest. He could hear the periodic beeping of the sentry as it waited patiently to tear somebody apart with bullets.

Spy fiddled with a few dials on his Sapper, curious if they even actually adjusted anything regarding the device’s performance. He could feel it humming the slightest bit in his hand, as if in anticipation. He disguised himself as the RED Scout.

“Yo!” he said, mimicking Scout’s voice with the aid of the disguise kit and making a genuine effort not to roll his eyes as he channeled the boy’s boundless energy.

Distracted, the Engineer greeted him back, fiddling with the dispenser.

 _Perfect,_ Spy thought. He stuck the sapper, a magnetic device, to the sentry. Immediately, the machine stopped beeping, and its head pointed to the floor.

When the Engineer heard the telltale crackling of electricity from behind him, he turned, wrench in hand.

Spy cursed inwardly; he’d faltered and failed to stab the man before he noticed the sapper.

“ _Spy!_ ” Engineer yelled, slicing at him with his wrench.

The Spy slipped around him as he unfolded his balisong.

Just as he was about to let it fly, the Engineer swung around, and it just so happened he was using his wrench dubbed _Jag_. It was called that for good reason. The sharp bit caught the skin along Spy’s ribcage, tearing straight through his suit.

Pain flared in his side. Embarrassed that he had been injured, Spy cloaked and escaped. The sound of the sentry blowing up and the RED Engineer cursing was music to his ears.

Clutching his side, now bleeding, he looked around for a First Aid kit. Even a bottle of painkillers would suffice for the time being.

Spy ducked into a wooden shack, hoping to find either one of the items in his disoriented state.

Instinctively, he recoiled upon hearing the loud _crack_ of a gunshot right inside. He could place it immediately; it had come from a particularly strong rifle.

Spy peeked into the shack again. As expected, the RED Sniper was inside. He was one of the Spy's favourite targets, as the man spent a fair amount of time standing still compared to everyone else.

He’d been right about the rifle; the Sniper was wielding the Machina and making another shot.

 _Crack._ The bullet had left a trail of red-tinted smoke behind, as if the rifle had fired a laser after it. Tracer rounds.

The Sniper mumbled something to himself in approval as Spy crept closer.

There was a bottle of pills right in front of him. If he could just grab it he’d be more than ready to take out the Sniper right after...

Then bullets sang against the piles of wooden planks behind the Sniper, who’d stumbled backwards.

He bumped right into the Spy, nearly tripping over him. The two cursed in unison.

“Damn Spy,” Sniper snarled, whipping out his wooden shiv with the serrated edge. The Tribalman’s Shiv.

Spy cringed at the sight of the thing. Several times, he’d felt its blade. Although it didn’t hurt like the classic kukri did, it left a nasty wound. Always a wound that bled.

Still, it was a little too late to back down. Sniper didn’t have the advantage of distance, and Spy didn’t have the advantage of surprise. He brought out his Ambassador.

Spy was fond of the engraved revolver. Even more so when he pressed it to somebody’s head and pulled the trigger.

“ _Venez,_ ” Spy invited, giving the Sniper a cold grin.

 _Come_ , he almost added for translation. It wasn’t necessary; Sniper did, taking a step forward, and lashing out. The Spy danced to the side, and fired a shot, purposely missing. The blade had nicked his arm, much to his surprise.

“Gettin’ a little reckless?” Sniper whispered, stepping forward again and making another pass.

Spy blocked it with the barrel of his gun, indicative of his impressive reflexes.

He reached his hand up, and stroked a gloved finger along Sniper’s cheek, irritating the marksman greatly. Sniper grabbed Spy’s wrist with his own free hand, and pulled the shiv back.

“Try again,” Spy purred. “I prefer not to toy with my victims, but I can make an exception for you. Just this once.”

“I ain’t your bleedin’ _victim,_ ” Sniper retorted, slashing again.

Spy shot at his enemy’s wrist to deter any more attacks, pleased when the Sniper cried out in surprise and pain.

Recovering quickly, the Sniper tossed the blade to his other hand, and jabbed forward.

The Spy backed up, shooting again. The shiv had just missed him. It left a cut in his suit jacket.

“I am done playing games, _bushman,_ ” Spy snapped.

The two were against the wall, almost standing outside of the shack completely, and the Sniper was in between the Spy and the stupid bottle of pills. He wasn’t going to escape for a second time in the day, even if the exit was right behind him.

“Then finish me,” Sniper said, making a wide slash.

Spy parried with his Ambassador, which frustrated Sniper because the Spy was successfully defending with a _revolver_.

"It would be my pleasure,” Spy whispered as he jerked his arm back.

He pointed the gun to the Sniper’s face, a mere half metre away. The Sniper was known for his accuracy, of course, but Spy knew right then that he couldn’t miss.

And when he pulled the trigger, he didn’t.

“Good riddance,” he muttered as the Sniper’s body fell to the floor, spattering it with blood.

Spy kicked at the hovering bottle of pills, and sighed as it healed him.

It wasn’t a corporeal thing, and more like a hologram, yet it fixed him up just like the Medic’s mediguns and the Engineer’s dispensers did. The intricacies of the strange technology were beyond him, but he knew that some things were better left unquestioned.

They healed him, and were even able to patch up his clothes. There was nothing to complain about, was what he thought. Nothing to complain about. 

As he left, he stepped carefully over the Sniper’s body.

 

Spy's skin was tingling a bit as he returned to the fray. The wound from the Engineer’s wrench had healed, but some of the ones that the Sniper left were still raw, leaking beads of blood.

He would’ve liked to pay another visit to the Engineer’s nest. Sadly, where the Texan had been was too far a trip for him. The round was ending, and he didn’t want to waste the remaining time walking there.

Spy was close to RED’s spawn, though, and looked around for freshly respawned mercs to stab or shoot. Or a First Aid kit. That would be a much better idea.

Nobody was really around, as the fight was climaxing to a stalemate of all things. Spy sighed, wishing his team had done a bit better for the day. Just to give him someone nearby to kill. Not to mention that a stalemate would mean a BLU loss.

He decided to just head back to Sniper’s nest for the pills again so he could be fully healed. The First Aid kits and such always popped up again after being used, sooner or later.

Spy walked in, then stopped before he was sure why. He shook his head, and made his way for the medicine.

 _The body is gone,_ his mind whispered to him, forming the conscious thought in his head just as he was about to reach for the bottle. Too late.

The Sniper was right behind the Spy, and it was beyond him how he hadn’t heard the marksman approaching.

Spy felt a hand clamp around his throat, and reached for his gun as a rush of sheer desperation overtook him. He fumbled. It fell from his hand and onto the floor, right onto a pool of blood. He searched the inside of his suit for something else to help him.

“Knew you’d be here,” Sniper muttered, bringing his shiv in front of the Spy’s face.

“Stalker,” Spy hissed. His vision was starting to blur, and his fingers clenched.

The Sniper laughed, a loud bark. “That’s ironic, comin’ from you,” he said tersely, driving the blade into the Spy’s chest.

Spy’s body fell to the ground when the Sniper let go. He was too preoccupied with his rifle, too preoccupied with thoughts of getting a last-second kill to hear the footsteps.

The Spy, cloaked, gripped his golden pocketwatch in a hand. He studied his fake body for a moment, then the Sniper, so focused at his post. Spy could feel himself bleeding from the shiv’s wound. Sniper clearly hadn’t seen.

The cloak would drop in a moment. He stepped forward, knife in hand, poised to strike. The Dead Ringer gave the distinctive, funny little noise it was named for as the cloak faded.

The Sniper turned just as the knife came down. He recognized the uncloak sound. Of course he did. The blade was off of its target, but left a gash nonetheless.

“ _Bloody Spy!_ ” Sniper growled, reaching for his shiv yet again.

“Missed me?” Spy asked. All of the purr was out of his voice now. His gaze grew hard as he pulled his revolver back out.

“No,” Sniper retorted, cutting at Spy’s thigh, bringing a curse out of the Frenchman. “You won’t get the bloody best of me this time, spook.”

“And why not?” Spy asked, arching an eyebrow.

The gong rang out. Spy paled. His gun disappeared from his hand with a mocking puff of smoke.

“ _Merde,_ ” he muttered.

Sniper shoved him forward, pressing him against the wall. Spy struggled against the man, not wanting to go so easily.

Sniper leaned in. “Hope you remember this the next time you come here to stab me,” he said smugly.

“Maybe I will,” Spy replied, glaring at him as angrily as he could manage while being held down.

The Sniper brought up his shiv, glowing red with energy. The promise of a guaranteed critical hit. He poised himself to strike, holding the Spy’s neck almost gently, and sliced.

As soon as the edge of the blade met his skin, the Spy was dead for good.

 

When he respawned again, Spy was frowning. There was a dull ache in his neck. It was fading, but annoying, because it reminded him why it was there in the first place.

He wanted to get back at the Sniper. A frown crossed his face as he remembered he wouldn’t get the chance until next battle. Tomorrow. Too soon and yet not soon enough.

Spy sighed; he thought he’d gotten over keeping petty little grudges. It was silly. They were grown men who murdered each other all the time.

But he supposed that was what was so different about _this_ time - they were both usually neat and quick, performing painless executions. Today, their clash had dragged out. Spy was upset because he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It didn’t show on his face, nor in his voice.

“S’okay, we’ll get ‘em next time,” the Scout said to no one in particular. He was beat up and bleeding, but their Medic’s medigun was trained on someone else. It was rare that Scout wasn’t complaining after a loss, especially during the BLU losing streak, but nobody commented on it.

“Oui. Let us hope for a better performance tomorrow,” Spy said, trying to get past everyone so he could go and mope in solitude.

“Aufhören. _Stop,_ ” the Medic said.

The Spy sighed inwardly. He wasn’t about to ignore the Medic, who was the best friend he had.

“You look terrible,” Medic stated curtly.

Spy resisted the urge to laugh. “As do you,” he replied, trying to look stern.

Medic shooed away the now-healed Heavy. There was rarely a smile on the Medic’s face, but Spy was rewarded with one. Then the doctor got serious again.

“You vorked hard today,” Medic said, tugging the handle of his medigun.

Spy relaxed in the healing beam. “I appreciate it. As did you.”

“See you at dinner.”

“Do not count on it,” Spy muttered, snorting.

Disgruntled, the injured Scout who’d been waiting to be healed shouldered past him, probably smearing some blood on his suit. Spy was too tired snap at him, or even to cuff him on the head.

He headed upstairs, into his designated quarter at base. Initially, it had been a bland room, furnished with nothing more than a bed and drawer, but the Spy had decorated it with a few of his belongings.

Still, he didn’t really use the room. There were times he slept in it, and it was fine, but just as many times, he got out of base, no matter which base the mercs were at. His teammates were always good at driving him up the wall.

Most of his clothes were in there, though. He pulled a few things out of the closet and tossed them into his briefcase.

He avoided showering at base, because he had no desire to see his teammates showering, nor did he want them to see him. He valued his privacy and the anonymity he had.

The mercs who owned vehicles parked them out back, except for Sniper, whose van was somewhere closer to a side entrance. He behaved like a loner until it came to team meetings - the only time he really spoke up.

As he made his way to his car, Spy wondered if the RED Sniper was the same.

The Medic’s car was there, too, but the Engineer’s pickup was conspicuously missing. He must’ve headed out somewhere.

Spy inspected his car, not for scratches on the paint job as some of the other mercs teased him about, but for anything suspicious. Since all of the vehicles were kept out in the open, he didn’t exactly trust the other team not to come in and do terrible things to them.

The car seemed fine, so Spy got in. Sometimes he thought that it was a bit much to go out of his way just for a shower, and Medic would agree, but it was a much better idea than hanging around base, waiting for the showers to empty. Or locking everyone else out, which would be over-the-top.

The mercs were stationed near a small town for the next month or so. It was the kind that almost melted into the desert’s reddish landscape at night and could be missed with the blink of an eye. 

Spy drove in, found the lonely motel just down the main street, and parked there.

He was familiar with a few of the employees, which was fortunate, as they knew who he was, even if his identity at the place was partially forged. They had his key to him in seconds. 

There were only two rooms that Spy ever booked in the motel. He wondered if the smiling receptionist lady at the counter reserved them for his occasional visits. She liked him, that much was apparent. Spy thought it was nice that she overlooked how tired he was as he headed upstairs.

As soon as he got to his room, he searched it thoroughly. The Administrator was always planting microphones and cameras in the mercs’ rooms, and he’d learned his lesson the hard way, a few months into working for BLU.

Spy didn’t take well to being watched. It seemed that she hadn’t bothered with his motel room, so he contented himself with shutting the blinds before going to shower.

He freed his head of the balaclava at last, and scrubbed himself clean of blood and dirt. The medigun had healed his wounds, but it left scars behind. Sometimes they faded, sometimes they didn’t.

He rubbed the one on his arm. It reminded him of the day’s heat, now gone, and the Sniper. His eyes through the tinted aviators, filled with contempt and something else. Something like the look he always had when he was focused through the scope of his rifle. Probably murderous intent, which would be unsurprising, as they _had_ been trying to kill each other.

Spy closed his eyes. He wanted to stop thinking about the enemy Sniper, and the ways he wanted to get back at him, because a bullet to the head or knife to the back wasn’t good enough. Perhaps a domination, if he could manage it.

He wished he had other things to think about. It truly seemed like the Australian would plague his mind until tomorrow.

And Spy really couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not as he slipped on a fresh balaclava from his briefcase. Not as he left the room at eight in the evening, despite having booked it for the whole night as he always did. Not as he drove back to BLU base, casting a sidelong glance at the RED base as he passed by.

Especially not back in his room, running his fingertips over the fresh scars. Replaying the events again and again in his head, until he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes a Spy fails to stab me, and I try to kill them, but I can’t truthfully say that it ends in my favour most of the time. I am not a Sniper main for many reasons.
> 
> RED Sniper might be a good shot (even if he’s in a Machina bodyshot mood), but he’s not really one for closer combat. Though he uses the Machina (what a nerd), it’s his BLU counterpart who uses the Huntsman (what a nerd). I hope my fellow TF2 players can hate the two Snipers equally. :)


	2. Payback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are mentions of getting revenge from what happened last chapter. I do not mean this the same way it’s used in game, as obviously our Sniper and Spy didn’t have enough kills on each other in the round for that to work.
> 
> I mention this in particular because I know of the actual TF2 game (even though I’m not very good at actually playing it) and I don’t just fawn over the mercs for ship fodder. I promise. I _swear_.

In the morning, Spy got up early as he always did. Just another Tuesday of work. But this Tuesday in particular, payback was still on his mind.

Spy had already admitted to himself that he was being at least a _bit_ petty. Still, he could deal with that if it meant at least one revenge stab. Anything would suffice.

He rubbed his temples, and took deep breaths. Recently it had been getting harder to dredge up the energy to really get into his job. After all, the BLU team was on a bit of a losing streak, and it was taking a toll on everyone.

But a job was a job. Spy checked his weapons. Considering everyone was in a war, he found the weapon limits odd. Still, obey they must.

He switched out his Dead Ringer for his regular invisibility watch. The pocketwatch needed a good polish. Everything else seemed to be working just fine. The Engineer on his team often checked with the mercs to ensure that their gear was working well. Like Spy’s sappers, which, according to the man, needed recalibration every month or two to be working their destructive best.

The ten second countdown began.

Spy tucked his revolver into his suit. His teammates were ready to go, eager to have another crack at breaking their losing streak to hopefully please their employer before they lost the whole damn war for him somehow. That’d be terrible.

“Hey, Spy.”

Spy nearly jumped at the sound of the familiar voice. He turned. Of course it wasn’t the RED Sniper; the REDs couldn’t be in BLU spawn. Spy relaxed.

“Dropped your knife,” his team’s Sniper said. His voice was quieter than the RED Sniper’s, Spy noticed. Or maybe the enemy Sniper was just loud in skirmishes. Or... maybe it was the bandana over his mouth, muffling his words somewhat.

“Merci,” Spy said, taking it from him. He tried not to stare. It was hard; the BLU Sniper had a very menacing demeanor that seemed to command attention, despite the man’s actual nature.

Sniper nodded and left, arrow nocked in his bow.

Spy shook his head to himself. He felt almost like he wanted to say something more than a simple thank you, but he wasn’t familiar with the Sniper on his team. Ironically, in some ways, he knew the enemy Sniper better, with the stabbing and taunting and all. 

He chose not to think about it.

The Spy ducked out of spawn. Luckily for him, nobody was waiting right outside the door. He made his way across the battlefield, destination already in mind.

He had a good feeling about where the Sniper would be. The enemy marksman didn’t come out into the fray as often as the one on his team did with his bow. The RED Sniper liked to hide in his little roosts with a nice view of everything going on.

Spy looked around, checking every shack he knew had a window. The Sniper had to be somewhere with a decent view of BLU spawn.

“Bloody hell.”

The Spy perked up. Perfect. He withdrew the balisong tucked in his sleeve, and sidled up to the wall, peeking inside.

There was a backpack by the window, and the enemy Sniper was reloading his rifle. Funny; the Spy hadn’t heard him shoot yet. Why would he need to reload?

Had the Spy been less focused on getting revenge, he would’ve taken the time to question the Sniper’s actions. When he looked back on that moment, he would’ve thought that he should’ve been much more careful.

Spy cloaked and crept forward. He paused. The Sniper didn’t move nor turn around. Spy dropped his cloak, pulled his knife out, and unfolded it with a few swift, practiced flicks of his wrist.

Muffled _click click_ as the balisong took its form.

Spy held his breath. He was poised to strike...

It happened so quickly he didn’t see it coming.

With his left hand, the Sniper cut a deep gash in the Spy’s chest with his wooden shiv, taking the Frenchman completely off guard.

Spy cursed, and fell to his knees as blood poured out of him.

“ _Connard..._ ” he growled.

“Don’t know what that means, spook. Nice try, though,” the Sniper said.

“You knew I was coming,” Spy said, gripping the stupid wound.

“You’re not one to leave things unresolved,” Sniper replied with a shrug.

“Do you expect me to be impressed?” Spy said. He coughed, and it hurt like hell.

“Nah. Are you?” Sniper asked.

“A bit,” the Spy admitted. He was reluctant, but he supposed it was the truth, and since he was bleeding to death at his enemy’s feet, there wasn’t any dignity left to preserve by saying otherwise.

“How did you know I was coming?” Spy asked. He wanted to look up, but his vision was getting foggy. He shut his eyes.

“Footsteps. You’re quiet, but it’s not hard to hear when I’m listening for them. I was waitin’ for you to show up,” Sniper said. He rested the blade on the Spy’s shoulder.

“Missed me?” Spy asked, smirking at his pool of blood on the floor.

Sniper laughed.

 

“Are you going to kill me now?” Spy asked. He was bleeding out. The damn serrated shiv always hit hard.

Sniper lifted Spy’s chin with the tip of the blade. He was wearing an expression that was almost solemn, but it was hard to really tell from below with his eyes obscured by the tinted glasses.

“Yeah. Suppose so,” Sniper said. He smiled, and Spy tried to look away, but the sharp object at his neck wasn’t helping.

“Make it quick,” Spy whispered. His hands dropped. He could feel the blood soaking through his gloves.

“That’s my speciality,” Sniper replied, his voice soft as if speaking to a prey animal, trying to keep it calm for the killing blow. He slashed.

 

When Spy respawned, the familiar ache of where he'd been hit was throbbing in his chest. He was tempted to check for a scar, but he wasn’t about to unbutton his clothes in the middle of the respawn room.

He wanted to get the image of Sniper’s smile out of his head.

For a distraction, he checked over his weapons, a habit he’d developed from the few times respawn had glitched and he found himself without his knife.

Since then, the issues had been ironed out, but it still left a bit of paranoia in him. It was hard to forget the mortification of finding one’s self without their trusted weapon in the middle of battle.

Sometimes those who died in battle would ‘drop’ a weapon. They were about as real as the health packs. More of a hologram than anything. They provided ammunition, which was convenient when Spy needed to recharge his cloak.

It all reminded Spy of the time he’d been slashing at the Sniper with his knife after stabbing the enemy Scout who was retrieving ammo in the same room.

The Sniper had pulled out his submachine gun, and the Spy his revolver. He’d run out of bullets, and the Sniper knew.

He’d laughed, but as the Spy was backing up, he picked up the ammo from the Scout’s ‘dropped’ scattergun. And ended their little scrap with a few quick shots.

The Sniper hadn’t used the submachine gun since.

Spy left respawn. His team was pushing the bomb cart along the rails, and they weren’t doing too bad. Maybe they’d actually win for the day. That would at least lift their spirits.

The round was halfway over. A few more, and then everyone would break for lunch. Why both teams always had lunch at the same time was a mystery, but was a time of mandatory stalemate, tenuous as it was.

Spy wasn’t even sure what he’d eat. He usually prepared his own lunch, while the rest of his team had one or two people cooking. He did not trust his team’s cooking.

He ducked into an empty shack and cloaked. He nearly bumped right into his opposite, who’d uncloaked right in front of him and, upon noticing Spy’s presence, looked like he wanted to say something.

He didn’t get the chance.

When the BLU Spy was done wiping the blood off his knife on the RED’s suit, he moved on.

He supposed it would be up to him to take out the Engineer’s nest. His team’s Soldier had just fallen to the sentry’s rockets.

Not wanting a repeat of what happened before, he was a lot more careful with his movements.

The Engineer was attending to his dispenser, as he had been yesterday.

Spy attached the sapper to the sentry, and took out his Ambassador. When the Engineer turned, pointy wrench still in hand, the Spy put a quick bullet through his head.

Satisfied with his kill, the Spy patted his gloves together before sapping the dispenser as well. The Engineer wouldn’t be happy when he respawned and got back, so Spy left the scene of the crime, as always.

A quick check out the window the sentry had been murdering through told him what he already knew. He was nearing the Sniper’s roost. Assuming he hadn’t already moved.

Spy did still want a kill on him before the round ended, but he wasn’t entirely sure if he really wanted to visit. The thought made him a bit nauseous, and it wasn’t just the memory of the shiv tearing through his chest.

Maybe he just didn’t want to see the Sniper smile again before killing him, if Spy was caught.

Either way, it was too late to back out. He had reached the roost, guided by the sound of a well-placed shot and familiar follow-up: a mumble of approval. Apparently the Sniper hadn’t changed locations. 

Spy peeked in. The Sniper didn’t seem like he was still listening for footsteps; he was occupied with the battle growing closer.

The Spy ducked back out to let his cloak recharge. Then _he_ heard footsteps, and cloaked again. He resisted the urge to yell, because he recognized the exact sound and that particular pattern of boots on wood. 

Not the Soldier’s loud stomping, nor the Medic’s quicker, lighter steps.

Something in between.

The enemy Pyro.

Spy slipped into the Sniper’s roost. There were piles of wood planks, as there were in many of the shacks, gathering dust.

The Sniper turned to greet the Pyro, who had come in for ammo. Moving as quickly as he could, the Spy stepped around the ammo box so as not to make his presence clear by picking it up and thus having it refill his gun and watch, and tried not to crash right into the Sniper as he slid into the space between the wall and the wooden planks.

He had a clear view of the fray just outside the window, as if that helped in his current situation, and the Sniper jokingly asking the Pyro if they were a Spy.

The Pyro responded with a puff of fire from their flamethrower, and Spy cringed, pressing into the wall. He knew that it wouldn’t hurt the Sniper, as the two were on the same team, but the very sight of the weapon being used was horribly unpleasant.

When the Pyro left, returning to defend for the RED team, the Sniper turned back to the window.

“You can come out now,” he said, voice low.

Spy blinked. “What?” he asked, before he could stop himself. “You knew I was here all along? Why did you not ask the Pyro to spycheck?”

Sniper grinned. “It was just a lucky guess, actually. Didn’t think you’d respond. And besides, I’d rather kill you myself.”

Spy’s cloak ran out of energy and faded. “Then come and kill me,” he said faintly.

“Nah, how about I let you take the first swing?” the Sniper asked, still smiling a bit. He wasn’t even watching the Spy, but rather, the battle.

“Was that supposed to be a joke?” Spy asked. He felt as if he should be insulted, but he was simply baffled.

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the smart ones?” Sniper replied, lowering his rifle.

Spy rolled his eyes. He brought out his Ambassador, and rubbed the engraved barrel against his suit jacket. Whether or not it was a joke, he didn’t appreciate the charity.

Sniper picked up his large backpack. Spy had seen him wearing it occasionally and the Sniper on his team with a similar one. He knew it provided some kind of benefit, but for whatever reason against the laws of physics, it didn’t deflect a backstab, even when the bag was full and in between Sniper’s back and Spy’s knife. Not like that stupid Razorback shield, which _did_ protect the marksman from a single stab.

The Sniper was taking something out of it. It never really occurred to the Spy that the Sniper would actually carry things in what was technically a weapon. Then again, none of his own weapons was a bag.

“Here,” Sniper said, tossing him a bottle of Red Shed, the beer that was readily available in Teufort.

Spy was taken aback, and nearly dropped the thing.

“Why?” he asked, having nothing else to say. He didn’t bother adding that most of the alcohol the mercs were able to obtain was awful, beer included.

The Sniper shrugged. “Feeling generous. You look like you need a drink, anyway.”

“This is not going to stop me from killing you,” Spy muttered.

“I know, but maybe it’ll get that pole outta your arse,” Sniper replied, grinning again.

“I do not have a pole up my _arse,_ ” Spy snapped, mangling the bottlecap with his knife.

“You act like it sometimes,” Sniper said, lining up a shot.

Spy took a sip of the beer. As expected, it was terrible. It had been too long since he last had a decent drink. Even if it could quite possibly get him drunk, which would almost be welcome at the moment, he didn’t want to finish it. It tasted bad and he wasn’t about to get drunk in front of his enemy.

“If you’re not going to drink it all, I want it back,” the Sniper said, making another shot.

“Take it. I do not know how you can stomach this. It is absolute shit,” Spy said, standing up and passing him the bottle.

Sniper downed the rest of the drink without hesitation.

“It’s not so bad when you don’t think about how bad it is,” he replied, setting the empty bottle on the windowsill. “I’ve had worse.”

Spy ran his fingers over his revolver. “Now, are you going to kill me?” he asked.

Sniper shot him a sideways glance. “Thought I said I’d give you the first swing,” he said.

“Do not be ridiculous. You probably drugged the beer, anyway,” Spy said.

“I didn’t, but now that you mention it, I should’ve,” Sniper said.

“Oui. That would have been a great way to end me,” Spy said, studying his gun with far more attention than necessary.

“A shame, isn’t it? I’ll remember that for next time,” Sniper replied.

“Next time?” Spy asked.

“Yeah. Come up here again, and we can share more shitty beer,” Sniper said, laughing.

“I cannot believe you are inviting me to kill you.”

“Nah, I’m inviting you to a bloody drink.”

“We are on opposite teams, Sniper.”

“I know. Do you want another beer?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oui.”

“Why don’t you just say ‘yes’?”

“...I do not know.”

“You just like reminding us that you’re French, you pompous wank.”

Spy huffed, indignant, which made the Sniper laugh again.

“So aren’t you gonna try and kill me?” Sniper asked, turning around. “I’ve shot at least half your team by now.”

Spy took a step closer to him. He dropped the Ambassador, and pulled out his knife.

“Why are you making it so easy for me?” he asked.

“Because your team’s been doing terribly, and I feel bad for all of you.”

“How considerate.”

“Take the beer.” 

“I do not want the beer.”

“C’mon. Pole arse.”

“Fine. Give me the stupid fucking beer.”

Sniper handed him the stupid fucking beer. The Spy noticed his hand was warm, and felt himself blush, ridiculously enough. He hoped the Sniper didn’t notice. His balaclava probably covered it.

“It would be rude to stab you after this. Even if the beer _is_ shitty,” Spy said.

“I won’t hold it against you,” Sniper replied, picking up the Ambassador.

“Do you really pity my team?” Spy asked. Watching his enemy holding his gun was very odd.

“Yeah, a bit,” Sniper admitted. “Nice gun. Custom engraved?”

Spy nodded. “Oui.” The engraving on it was intricate and involved a busty woman.

“One of your ladyfriends?” Sniper asked, rotating the bullet chamber with his thumb.

“Non. But the Spy on your team has a very similar gun, and his engraving is of his lover,” Spy said.

“Did you copy him?” Sniper asked, amused.

“Absolutely not. This was a gift from one of my old friends before he died. He always said I was good with the ladies,” Spy said, sighing a bit at the memories.

“And are you?”

Spy gave a faint smile. “What do you expect?”

Sniper just nodded, still looking at the gun.

“Admittedly, most of the people I have slept with are dead now, and I am at fault. But that is just how the business works,” Spy said.

“Sounds like you’d be a bloody terrible lover,” Sniper said, looking up.

“I take great offense to that. I am an _excellent_ lover. I am sure my previous partners would agree,” Spy said.

“Yeah, but you killed them,” Sniper pointed out.

Spy waved his hand. “That is not the point.” he said. “I have done better than _you,_ I am sure.”

“Wouldn’t be hard to say that, mate. I never exactly went looking for it,” Sniper said.

Of course he wouldn’t, in the bush.

“A shame you will never enjoy the gentle caress of a woman, then,” Spy replied.

“Never said I haven’t before.”

“Have you?”

“Yeah. A few times, when I was younger. Then I realized I was looking for the wrong people,” Sniper said, making eye contact. Then he realized the implications of what he said, and looked away.

It took a moment for Spy to process the words.

“You are a homosexual?” Spy asked. He hadn’t really thought about it before.

“Nah, mate. I mean the sheilas I’ve been with weren’t my type.”

Sniper paused.

“Been with men too, before.”

Spy exhaled.

Sniper tilted his head. “Surprised?” he asked.

“No, not really. After all, so have I.”

“Well now _I’m_ surprised. You don’t act like it.”

“Act like it? Like what? You are not sucking a cock whenever I walk in here.”

Sniper went red. “Okay, good point,” he said. “Guess you wouldn’t be hitting on your teammates in the middle of battle.”

Spy blinked. “I do not _hit_ on my teammates at all, bushman,” he said. “They do not interest me.”

“Then who does?” Sniper asked. He realized, again, that he probably said too much, bit his lip, and turned back to the window.

“I-” the Spy began, confused at how forward the marksman was being.

“Holy dooley!” Sniper exclaimed. Spy might have laughed at the remark, had Sniper not grabbed him by the tie, and yanked.

Reflexively, the Spy cloaked. He was invisible until he hit the floor. Or, to be accurate, landed on the Sniper who had pulled him down. It was miraculous he managed to keep the bottle of beer safe and unshattered.

A rocket exploded on the wooden planks behind them. As usual, the wood didn’t give. Spy could feel the blast resonating through him, and he clutched at the Sniper’s shirt.

“Uh, sorry,” Sniper said.

The Spy’s head was pressed onto his vest. He started to get up, embarrassed.

“...You saved me. Do not apologize,” Spy said.

“Nah mate, I think that rocket was from your team’s Soldier,” Sniper replied, scratching his arm. He looked sheepish.

“Do not worry about it,” Spy said. Did the Sniper expect him to be upset at his own reflexes when he was thinking about protecting the _enemy_ Spy along with himself?

Sniper blinked. “Round’s almost over, you better stab me quick.”

“Do you get off to it?” Spy asked. It was still strange why the Sniper was suddenly giving him an easy kill. Even if he pitied the BLU team, they were against each other. He was _expected_ to kill the BLUs.

The Sniper laughed, a sound Spy hadn’t considered himself familiar with until that day.

Spy took his Ambassador, and pressed it to the Sniper’s forehead. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do it. Not because killing was hard, but because of everything that had happened.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Spy mumbled.

Sniper was wearing a faint smile. He gave a toothy grin as Spy pulled the trigger, leaving him speechless and red-faced again.

It had never been the Sniper’s thing to show much emotion. At least, Spy knew the Sniper on his team was relatively quiet about things until he was angered. The enemy Sniper mostly just frowned and growled at him when they had their fights, occasionally tossing out an insult or two.

The BLU team won the round. Spy could hear his team cheering outside, scattering to take out the now-defenceless REDs. Yelling about how they’d surely win the rest of the rounds and therefore for the whole day, too, for the first time in a week.

But the Spy was still standing in the roost, motionless, thinking about how much the Sniper smelled like gunpowder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spy your comment was lewd and cissexist.
> 
> The backpack the Sniper has with him is the Cozy Camper. It doesn’t make a Sniper more susceptible to a Spy’s backstabs - I just wanted to make it clear you can still be backstabbed while wearing one in game, but in a realistic setting it’s not as if you’d be able to stab someone’s backpack and expect it to kill them.
> 
> What do you do? Lift the straps? That wouldn’t be very stealthy. Unless your victim is really oblivious. Or they love you enough to give you a free kill.


	3. Don't Think About It

The BLU team lost the next round, but won the round after that. Then it was lunch, and the mercs dispersed.

Spy had avoided the enemy Sniper completely after their fight, because he couldn’t stop thinking about him and how he’d pulled him to the floor.

 _It was nice,_ he thought grudgingly. The Sniper was warm and he smelled surprisingly pleasant, even in the middle of battle. Spy blushed again at the thought of it. He was getting tired of blushing at things that made no sense. Especially the smell of _gunpowder_.

He didn’t want to cook anything for himself. There wasn’t enough time to make anything good. So he washed his hands thoroughly and made a sandwich.

Although several of his teammates’ eating habits were less than impressive, they managed the collective effort of keeping the base’s fridge and food supply in surprisingly passable order.

Spy headed back to his room to eat it. He realized he still had the Sniper’s beer with him. Although he would’ve preferred to just leave it in the fridge for the others, he took it upstairs with him.

When he got to his room, he set the beer on his drawer and did not open it.

Spy thought about their conversation earlier. He didn’t enjoy not knowing things, but he truly could not understand why the Sniper had acted like he did.

It was unsettling and endearing at the same time.

He wondered if, on his next visit, the Sniper would fight him again the way they always had. For over a year, now.

Stab. Shoot. Repeat.

Spy shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it. He had more pressing issues to attend to. After a bit of thought, he realized that there weren’t actually any more pressing issues. Not like in the past, when problems of all sorts cropped up.

The Administrator used to send him out on special missions unrelated to RED and BLU, but then she hired a pair of twins specifically for espionage who weren’t in the war, and he had all his evenings to himself again...

Stealing the RED intelligence. That was one issue that could be considered pressing. He’d pulled it off plenty of times, whenever it was available to his team to grab, but he couldn’t figure out how to get inside the briefcase. Trying to crack the code hadn’t worked. Neither had sheer force.

The papers that the stuffed briefcases loosed weren’t exactly incriminating, either. They were covered in lines of nonsense that even the Engineer couldn’t decode.

The enemy intelligence didn’t really matter to the Spy himself, though. It was something that his team was expected to take, just as they were expected to push a cart with a bomb in it toward the REDs.

None of it really mattered to him. None of it counted as a pressing issue worth his thoughts.

He questioned their jobs sometimes, but they were rewarded, and that was good enough for him.

And now, something worth contemplating was happening to him, but he didn’t accept it.

Was the Sniper trying to be... _friends?_

It was an unlikely possibility; he was about as much of a loner as the Spy was. Of course, Spy had never witnessed him deliberately avoiding his teammates, but he didn’t chat them up either. Not the way he had with the Spy earlier. 

Besides, after what had happened with the Demoman and Soldier, the mercs weren’t exactly eager to make nice with each other. Of course, the two had gotten some shiny new weapons out of the situation, but that didn’t change the fact that they’d been ordered to decimate each other right after forming a friendship.

Spy finished his sandwich. He grabbed the plate to go wash it, and, on a whim, took the beer with him.

 

The sun’s heat was at its merciless peak. The Spy wasn’t one to skip work, but he would’ve enjoyed finding an empty shack and taking refuge from the noon for the rest of the Wednesday. Of course, that wasn’t an option.

Spy put the beer in his locker, and retreated to an unoccupied corner in the respawn room. He pulled a cigarette from his disguise case and lit it. If the Medic caught him smoking, he’d take the cigarette away in a heartbeat. The Spy didn’t really care.

His nerves were jumping all over the place, and the damn things helped, damn it. Not for very long, but that was beside the point.

It was inevitable that the Medic would find him, getting the smell of smoke everywhere. Medic followed the scent of smoke like a bloodhound until he reached the culprit.

“Zhese are bad for your healzh. Give it,” Medic said, shaking his head.

More than reluctant, the Spy handed the lit cigarette over. Medic crushed it against the wall mercilessly, leaving a small burn mark in the wood.

“You deny me my comforts,” Spy said, giving an overdramatic sigh.

“Vhen your comforts do not deteriorate your healzh, I vill approve of zhem,” Medic replied.

“I stopped, did I not?”

“Ja, until I looked avay.”

“Shut it.”

The ten second countdown began. Medic nodded to the Spy, and headed back to the front, his medigun humming with energy.

_Gong._

Spy waited for the initial crowd to disperse before cloaking and leaving.

The enemy Demoman was launching stickybombs in front of the cart. Spy had him down before he needed to reload.

His team’s Scout darted past, scattergun in hand, spraying bullets. The Spy sighed, hoping the boy wasn’t going to do something stupid, even if it was very likely he was going to do something stupid.

Spy looked around for the enemy Engineer, but noticed his team’s Soldier had already taken care of him with some well-placed rockets. A shame.

He wondered where the horrid RED Medic was. Always an excellent - not to mention vital - target. A quick scan out the doorway showed that he was tailing the enemy Pyro. Ugh. No matter, his job was his job. Especially because his team’s Scout was on fire...

“ _Merde,_ ” Spy hissed to himself.

He disguised himself as the enemy Demoman and hopped down. Neither one of the REDs spared him a second glance.

Spy trotted right after the pair. He wasn’t in the mood for games nor fancy tricks, and undisguised.

“Connard,” he muttered into the Medic’s ear. Unfortunately for the doctor, he didn’t respond in time to avoid the knife sinking into his back.

Spy stepped forward, wincing at the sight of the flamethrower again. He had about a second before the Pyro would turn on him.

He raised his arm again... and collapsed to the ground.

 

When Spy respawned, he was confused - but only for a moment. The dull ache in his head told him exactly how he went out.

The RED Sniper.

Spy cracked his knuckles, and decided to pay him another visit.

What a conversation starter he’d been given.

_I noticed you killed me earlier..._

The Spy opened his locker, and retrieved the beer. He considered killing the Sniper by smashing it over his head, but that probably wasn’t allowed, as it wasn’t a weapon of his like Demoman's bottles. 

His team was actually doing alright again, and the battle was about halfway down the bomb cart rails.

Spy walked out, not bothering with cloaking. It was now likely that nobody would be around the BLU respawn unless they were a BLU, respawning.

He made his way uncontested to where he’d been watching the Medic and the Pyro prior to attacking them. The Sniper would be somewhere behind, he guessed. Spy couldn’t see him from the doorway he was peeking out of. He’d have to go find the marksman himself.

He was in the same roost as he was in the morning, which was uncharacteristically predictable of him. Maybe his strategy for the week was to be predictable, which would in turn be unexpected?

Spy brushed the thoughts away. He wanted to drag out his kill for as long as possible. To make it _special_.

The Sniper was watching the battle through his scope. Spy wondered if Sniper was listening for his footsteps again. Probably not. He looked pretty focused, as Snipers tended to look.

Spy walked right up to him, and uncloaked. As soon as the Sniper noticed his presence and tried to turn, Spy wrapped his arm around the marksman and pressed his knife to his throat. The grey one with the flowers on the handle...

“Missed me?” he asked softly.

“Yeah. Come visit more often, will you?” Sniper replied.

“Nice shot earlier,” Spy said, aggression creeping into his voice.

“Thanks, mate,” Sniper said, unperturbed.

“I brought your bottle of awful beer.”

“Really? Thought you’d have thrown it away by now.”

“Do not be ridiculous. It was a gift, oui?”

“Yeah. Is your knife a gift, too?”

Spy laughed unexpectedly, his forehead bumping against the back of Sniper’s head and tipping his hat forward.

“Figured,” Sniper said, his left hand’s grip on the windowsill tightening.

“Your shiv really hurts, you know,” Spy said, bringing the tip of his knife down.

“Sorry. I’ll use something else next time,” Sniper said, smiling out the window.

“How _considerate,_ ” Spy said, digging the point into Sniper’s chest.

“You said that earlier, when I let you kill me,” Sniper replied, wincing.

“Oui, I did. Sweet of you to remember,” Spy teased, cutting downwards and straight through the Sniper’s team-coloured shirt. Spy could practically feel the blood on his knife.

“Bloody hell. I feel pain, you know. Hurry it up,” Sniper said, dropping his rifle and grabbing the windowsill with both hands.

Spy chuckled and relaxed the front of his body on the Sniper’s back, which just made the man tense up even more underneath him. He repositioned the knife before shoving it in. The Sniper choked, and fell under Spy’s grip. The Spy released his left arm from the Sniper’s waist, and wiped off his knife with his enemy’s cut shirt.

“Au revoir,” he murmured, setting the bottle of beer on the floor carefully before he left.

 

The BLU team had finally kicked their losing streak. The mercs rejoiced, slapping each other on the back and generally being celebratory. As usual, the Spy stayed away from it all.

He’d paid another visit to the Sniper earlier, but left out the formalities and just stabbed him. In return, the Sniper had shot him in the head after he downed the RED Medic and disguised as him right after with his knife.

Instead of joining the team’s excited chatter about how they were definitely going to be able to keep it up, he studied his knife. The one that allowed him to disguise as the victim right after backstabbing them, and had used on the Medic.

Your Eternal Reward, it was called. A pretty thing, patterned on the blade with a fancy hilt. He was rather fond of it. The RED Spy, more so.

Of course, he also needed to remember not to use it in front of the Sniper, who was, without a doubt, watching for him. It’d almost be a charming thought if it weren’t for the fact that he did it through a rifle scope.

“Herr Spy.”

The Spy looked up to see the tired Medic standing over him.

“Good vork today,” Medic said.

“You, too,” Spy replied. He paused. “...You have patients to tend to.”

“Ja. See you later,” Medic said.

The Medic turned, medigun at the ready, a few of the more injured mercs clamouring for his attention.

Spy was tempted to pull out a cigarette while the Medic was occupied, but he wasn’t in the mood for a disapproving glare accompanied by the promise of a lecture he’d already heard three times.

He got up, and retreated to his room. His knife, the one he’d driven into the Sniper’s chest, still had some of the man’s blood on it.

Spy took his day’s weapons to clean them. He wondered idly when the Engineer would approach him next to check on them.

The Spy polished the knife carefully. It was similar to his regular butterfly knife, just newer with a floral pattern on it. He remembered the day he’d obtained it, he’d been dominating the Sniper with eight solid kills on him. It had been a prize of sorts.

Spy wondered if the Sniper recognized the blade. Probably not; it was usually in his back rather than his front.

He cleaned his Your Eternal Reward and his Ambassador. There. Ready for the next kill.

Spy tucked them in his suit. He never left base unarmed. And since it was time for another shower, he was going to be armed whether or not anyone liked it.

When he arrived at the motel, settled into his room, and started his shower, he wondered about the Sniper.

He was warm. He was always warm. Even more so when he was being held.

The Spy stopped his train of thought, mortified.

_Being held._

Wasn’t that what he’d been doing earlier? Holding the Sniper. With a knife at his skin, yes, but also an arm around his body. Pressing himself against the man’s back.

Oh god.

Spy shivered, hoping that nobody had seen them. How would he even explain that? It wasn’t like he hugged all of his enemies prior to killing them. The Demoman on his team was oddly prone to hugging corpses when drunk, but Spy was different. He had dignity.

He sighed. The Sniper had likely chalked up his behaviour to being teasing and mysterious as usual, not flirting.

_Flirting!_

Spy covered his face with his wet hands. The conscious thought hadn’t even come to him until now.

He waved it away it, but not before wondering:

_Was he reciprocating?_


	4. Agreement

_Knock, knock. Knock, knock._

Spy stirred. Was it morning? No, the sky was still dark and star-speckled. Who the hell was at his door in the middle of the night?

“Go away,” he said, trying to convey his immense anger. It was likely that it wasn’t very convincing, because his face was smushed into his pillow.

The knocking grew more persistent. “ _Xavier._ Open zhis door immediately,” was the reply.

“Non,” the Spy protested, kicking the blanket off and getting up. He opened the door and tried to look like his regular self, slightly annoyed expression and all.

“ _Mein gott,_ ” Medic said, studying the Spy with concern.

“Oh, fuck off. The days I was able to get up in the middle of the night to embark on a secret mission are over,” Spy said, smiling slightly as he shut the door behind his friend.

“Why are you here?” Spy asked.

“...It’s zhe ozher Spy. On zhe RED team,” Medic began.

“Continue,” Spy said, sitting down on his bed. It was still warm.

“He has asked for our help,” Medic said.

Spy snorted. “What could he possibly want from _us_?” he asked.

“Vell, Xavier, do you know his name?” Medic replied, peering at the moon out the window, hovering brightly in the midst of a star-speckled pool, velvety and dark.

“Non. Should I?” Spy asked, frowning.

“Adrien-Louis Michaux. Zhis is vhat he has trusted me vizh in exchange for our help,” Medic said.

Spy paused. It didn’t sound familiar, though the first name was similar to his mother’s.

“What does he need us for?” he asked.

“Zhere is somezhing... bad going on zhat’s relevant to bozh of our teams, and ve vant to investigate it,” Medic said.

“Bad,” Spy repeated flatly.

“I need you to trust me before I can tell you anyzhing more, Xavier,” Medic pleaded.

“I can trust you,” Spy said, closing his eyes. The words tasted bad on his tongue, but he ignored the rising nausea from saying them out loud.

“I need you to be on my side, und help me. Us. To protect everyvone,” Medic said.

Spy looked down, deep in thought. He didn’t trust the enemy team, and why should he? But the Medic...

“Why does he care? About what happens to either of our teams?” Spy asked.

Medic hesitated. “Do you know zhe name of zhe BLU Scout?”

Spy had to think about it for a moment. “Darryl Royce Lewis,” he said, nodding slightly.

“Vell, his real name is technically Darryl Royce Lewis-Michaux,” Medic replied softly.

The Spy’s eyes widened. “So the RED Spy is his father?”

“Ja,” Medic said.

Spy cursed softly.

“And that is why,” Spy mumbled. He’d had his suspicions, but there hadn’t been any reason to confirm them. Now he didn’t have to.

“Ja,” Medic repeated, fiddling with his pocket.

“And somehow, I can help,” Spy said.

“Und vill you? I told him zhat I cannot do zhis vizhout you,” Medic said.

“What do we _do,_ though?” Spy asked, rubbing his eyes.

Medic pursed his lips. “Just keep an eye on him, I suppose. Make sure he’s eating. Ve cannot protect him in battle, alvays being right by his side; he vould get suspicious. But I am a Medic. I have my duties to keep him healzhy. Consider yourself moral support. Und as for zhe bigger issue at hand, ve vill have to see vhat zhe RED Spy has to say to us,” he said.

“Well, there is no way we cannot handle this, when all we have to do is watch him. But as for the enemy Spy, do not expect me to trust him,” Spy said. He wasn’t a father and didn’t plan on becoming one, but he could at least understand his counterpart trying to care for his son from afar.

“ _Gut,_ ” Medic said.

“So he paid you in... his name? I realize that it is a vital piece of information to him, but why should it matter to us?” Spy asked.

“It... vas to get us to trust him. He said he vould offer payment. As for how, he has yet to tell me. I vill get back to him vhen I can,” Medic said.

Spy nodded. “Why are you speaking to the enemy Spy, anyway?”

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Xavier,” Medic said, smiling, making the Spy roll his eyes.

“... _He_ vas zhe vone who found me. Just last battle. Ve didn’t get to speak for very long, and I may or may not have gotten close to amputating his arm vizh my saw, but he got his point out quicker zhan I zhought he vould. He seemed desperate, almost,” Medic said.

Last battle. Spy exhaled, not realizing he’d been holding his breath in the first place.

“For what reason would he be that desperate?” Spy murmured.

“I suppose it is somevhat vorrying,” Medic replied with a frown.

Spy stared at the stars as if they could give him all of the answers he was looking for. He rubbed at his arm, feeling the gentle ridges of a wound long healed.

“Sleep, Xavier,” the Medic said quietly, opening the door.

“ _Bon nuit,_ Isaak,” Spy said, locking it.

He slid back into bed, giving a pleased sigh feeling the blankets around him, warming him up again. The desert got cold at night. It felt even colder when he had too much to worry about.

A thought, a mental image, flashed through his head for just a moment. What if he had company to keep him warm? It had been a long time since he’d been comfortable sleeping with anybody else...

Spy buried himself under the covers. He thought he was done thinking about the damn enemy Sniper.

 

As soon as the gong rang, Spy was out the gate, mostly just wanting to get the battle over with. 

The Spy was deep in thought, still trying to digest what the Medic had said to him. He then let himself focus on his work, successfully taking down a few of the REDs, including the Scout when the boy had been taunting after a kill as he loved to do.

Before he knew it, it was lunch. Spy made himself a sandwich, and went upstairs to eat it.

He hadn’t even reached the stairs when someone called out to him in the hallway.

“Herr Spy.”

“What is it?” Spy asked, turning to the Medic.

“Vhere vere you during zhe battle? I did notice that you sapped zhe enemy Engineer’s machines a few times, but...” Medic said quietly, walking alongside him. He glanced at the beer, and oddly enough, didn’t comment on it.  
“What do you mean?” Spy asked. He distinctly recalled his kills from the round they just had.

Medic raised an eyebrow, skepticism written across his face.

“You worry too much about me. We do not work together, Isaak. We rarely see each other,” Spy said. He didn’t add that the Medic kept disturbingly accurate tabs on everyone and definitely did not need to do that.  
“I know,” Medic said, sighing. “It’s just zhat respawn has been glitching recently, und, vell, you _are_ my friend, after all."

“Wait, respawn has been glitching again?” Spy asked.

“I cannot say I know vhy. Zhe Engineer said he vould take a closer look. But all he told me vas zhat it has been behaving differently,” Medic said.

Spy washed his sandwich plate.

“That’s odd,” he commented.

“Not zhe first time, either,” Medic replied.

“Do not remind me,” Spy said, sighing.

“Oh, come on. It _vas_ hilarious. Vell, maybe less so for you vhen you had to face zhe enemy Medic vizhout a veapon in your hand,” Medic said.

Spy shivered. “Do not speak to me about him.” he muttered. He’d been thinking about the time being weaponless against the Sniper, but what Medic said reminded him of his similar run-in with the enemy Medic.

“I’m sure you vould’ve von, if you veren’t so caught off guard,” Medic said, grinning.

“I am certain of it. But he was quicker with his bonesaw,” Spy said, putting the plate back in the cupboard.

“Anyvay, moving on. Zhe RED Spy has requested to see us,” Medic said, watching his friend closely.

“What? Why the hell would he ask that?” Spy replied with a frown.

“Maybe he’s lonely,” Medic said, laughing a bit.

“You are willing to trust him?” Spy asked.

“Ja. Vell, it vould be easier if he didn’t ask to meet us in _his_ base.”

“No. Out of the question.”

“Xavier, please. Ve’re zhe only people he can talk to on zhis team. He just wants to keep his son safe, like I told you. Or as safe as he can be in zhis damned war.”

“It is a trap. It has to be.”

“Bitte. _Please,_ ” Medic said. Then, in a softer voice, added, “He has zhe chance to do what I couldn’t ten years ago.”

The Spy looked up, a sudden crushing sense of sympathy filling him. He knew the Medic had had a family back in Germany, before he realized that he didn’t really feel romantic nor sexual attraction for anyone. But they had been his, and he loved them and cared for them before losing them all.

It hurt Spy to see Medic looking so melancholy and pained. It was rare, and it broke through Spy’s stubborn shell.

“Fine. If you can trust him, then I can, too,” Spy said. It was a lie, and they both knew it, but Medic chose not to state it. If the Spy was willing to help at all, then why complain?

“ _Danke._ It vould take a very broken individual to lie about somezhing like zhis,” Medic said.

“I would not put it past him. The RED Spy is one of the least trustworthy people on the other team.”

“You’re so cold, Xavier,” Medic said, trying to show humour in his voice.

“That is not relevant. I am hungry. If you want to discuss this further, let us go to my room.”

“After you, Herr Spy.”

 

Back in the battle, Spy turned a corner into a building... and was jerked backwards. He cursed, nearly dropping his knife.

As soon as he was released, the Spy spun around, spitting out a string of angry French curses.

“Calm down, or someone will hear us.”

The enemy Spy materialized in front of him. It was strange hearing a voice so similar to his own, even if the RED Spy’s accent wasn’t as pronounced.

“What do you want? We are in the middle of battle,” the BLU Spy demanded, folding his knife.

“Friday night. Do you think you can make it?” RED Spy asked.

Spy hesitated. He wanted to reject his opposite, but he’d already told the Medic he’d go.

“Oui. You have already spoken to him, I assume,” BLU Spy said.

“He said yes, but he also told me to come speak to you personally. It seems he already convinced you.”

“Why Friday?”

“Why not?”

“...Fair enough. Now leave before I kill you.”

“ _À plus tard._ ”

BLU Spy watched his counterpart cloak, and followed suit. He made his way up to RED base, not wanting to see the other Spy again, lest he had to stab the man after their surprisingly civil conversation.

 

Friday. Work was over. Another BLU win. But even the team’s good spirits couldn’t calm the Spy. If anything, they just annoyed him. The suspicious smells in Medic’s office weren’t helping, either.

Spy couldn’t stop thinking about having to visit RED base. It was a trap. It had to be a trap. What else? After all, both of them were of two support classes that could do a lot of damage or, well, offer a lot of assistance via support. Even if they’d just respawn, killing the BLUs could send a message. Something. Anything with malicious intent.

“Are you sure?” he hissed to Medic, who was patching up Spy’s arm, injured from a run-in with the enemy Demoman’s battleaxe.

“Ve alvready told him yes. You cannot back out now,” Medic said, wiping the blood off.

“I know. But it is just hard to trust him. He is a backstabbing wanker,” Spy grumbled.

Medic smiled, wiping the cut with alcohol. “Zhat is not a vord you usually use, Xavier. Letting zhe enemy Sniper get to your head?”

Spy cursed out loud. “It is nothing. I have to be able to speak like the rest of you to disguise as you.”

“Other people’s mannerisms don’t tend to leak into your everyday life,” Medic pointed out.

“It has been a long day, Isaak,” Spy said, sighing.

Medic just shook his head a bit, still smiling.

“Lift your arm. Bitte. Please,” he said.

The Spy lifted his arm, and Medic wrapped it in gauze.

“Ve are going tonight. I vill drive, because apparently I cannot trust you to,” Medic said.

Spy scoffed. “I assure you I am a perfectly capable driver.”

Medic pulled the sleeve of Spy’s dress shirt back down over the bandages.

“I don’t trust you not to make a u-turn und drive us right back to zhe BLU base,” he said, patting his hands together.

Spy pulled his suit jacket back on, wincing at its press on his forearm. Respawn would fix it on his next death, but since he’d taken the injury at the end of the round, he hadn’t gone through it again after being hit. And it wasn’t worth killing himself just for a cut.

“I vill be at your room at seven. Zhen you vill have time for your shower und dinner. Vhy don’t you just shower here?”

“You know why. I rarely shower ‘ere,” Spy muttered. Secrecy. Scars. Many, many scars. Awful burn scars he didn’t like to think about...

Medic chuckled. “Ja, but ve put up shower curtains. You vill have privacy.”

Spy shot him a withering look. “Must I?”

“I vill not force you. But you must vaste quite a bit of money on gas driving back und forzh from zhe base to zhe town,” Medic replied.

“It _is_ a tedious trip,” Spy admitted, frowning.

Medic pointed the medigun on the Spy, and pulled the handle. He used it sparingly outside of battle unless necessary, as it led to some strange side effects at times, but it did have the added bonus of calming people down when set to a certain mode. 

“Zhe team vill not mock you for showering here, Xavier,” the Medic said softly.

“I know. It is not a big deal, what they say,” Spy replied.

Medic got up, patted him on the shoulder.

“Ja, now get going. I have to see to zhe ozhers.”

Spy nodded, and left the medical office.

How exactly did the Medic expect him to shower with his arm wrapped up, anyway? Was the gauze waterproof? It was making his arm tingle, which was disturbing. Was that just the aftereffect of the alcohol wipe?  
He decided to just have dinner first.

Luckily, there was nobody at the stove, so he made himself some chicken with vegetables. There were times he didn’t cook for himself, and just ordered something in town, but since he wasn’t going out for the night, that wasn’t an option. Chicken with vegetables was good though. It was simple and doable with the pantry’s meagre, though acceptable, offerings.

Spy felt something tap against his back, and he nearly turned with the hot pan in hand.

“Sorry, mate. Left my mug in the cupboard,” the BLU Sniper said, retreating his elbow.

His voice sent chills through the Spy; it was so similar to his counterpart’s. Same accent and nuances and everything.

“Do not worry about it,” Spy replied, trying to keep his voice even.

All of a sudden, he was disappointed. He wished it had been his Sniper to bump into him.

_His!_

Yet again, the Spy paused in his thoughts. The RED Sniper wasn’t his. The thought made his cheeks flush. He waved it away immediately, annoyed at how the Sniper was still getting to him.

He finished cooking his dinner and set the food on a plate, not wanting to linger in the kitchen any longer. Somebody else would wash the pan. Or he’d get back to it later.

Spy headed to his smoking room to eat instead of his bedroom. It was actually the lounge, but he’d monopolized it for his own purposes. Those purposes not even being related to smoking anymore, since Medic had been cracking down on him.

It was better than the dining room.

Normally, Spy went through the room to look for any cameras or microphones. Since he was just eating, he didn’t bother. The Administrator’s meticulous stalking of the mercs could be worried about another time.

When he finished, he took the plate to the kitchen and returned to his smoking room for a glass of wine. He had several bottles of alcohol in there, and he had a glass about every other day.

It was good and it relaxed him. He decided to take one of his nicer bottles to his visit to the RED base. For the discouragement of any murder attempts.

Of course, the mercs weren’t actually allowed to kill each other after the work day ended, but Spy still didn’t trust his counterpart not to pull a dirty trick. Especially after what RED team’s horrible, awful Medic had done.

It made Spy nauseous just to think about it. His head had been kept alive in the damn Medic’s fridge, and the details of how he died and regained his body escaped him. Rather unfortunate, because if he did happen to have a rescuer, he would’ve showed his gratitude without a moment’s hesitation.

Spy picked up the novel he’d been chipping away at on his spare time. It was worn and dogeared, but one of his favourites. A love story punctuated by tragedy...

 

“You’re early,” Medic said. He’d been reading some documents in his office. A quick glance at the clock told him it was only 6:50.

“I know,” Spy said. He’d just showered, and found that the gauze was indeed waterproof. Also, possibly radioactive; his arm was still tingling. The dressing was a bit tight, but really, it was just as likely that the bandages involved suspicious substances.

The Medic, after all, didn’t _do_ innocuous.

“Zhen let’s go. No reason to stick around, I suppose,” Medic said.

“What about your papers?”

“Zhey are not going anyvhere.”

“Have you fed your birds?” Spy asked, looking up. A few doves stared back.

“Yes, Xavier. I vould not forget zhem,” Medic replied, amused.

Spy nodded, and left. Medic locked the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bitte.


	5. Library Books

Spy wished that they could’ve taken his car to the RED base. It was always an excellent drive. The Medic insisted that they take his own car, though, and Spy didn’t really have a good argument against it.

He also had the bottle of wine with him. Medic, yet again, didn’t make a comment on the alcohol. It was confusing. He openly opposed Spy’s smoking, but not his drinking.

The Medic pulled out of the makeshift parking lot, and headed for the road. The enemy base wasn’t far, just a few kilometres past their own base.

“Where are you parking? Not in their base, I assume,” Spy asked.

“Zhe Spy mentioned a spot zhat vould conceal zhe car,” Medic replied.

That would have to be good enough. “Do you have any music?”

“If you mean my own, zhen no. If you vanted to listen to somezhing, you should’ve brought it from base,” Medic replied.

Spy turned on the radio, and the two listened to staticky Top 100 Hits until they made it to outside of the RED base.

“You have a terrible taste in music,” Medic teased as they left the car to walk the rest of the way.

“I do not actually listen to that garbage. I hate love songs,” Spy grumbled.

“It’s not zhat bad, if it’s one of zhe Top 100 Hits, ja?” Medic said.

Spy decided to ignore the comment. “Is he going to escort us?”

“Actually, zhat is exactly vhat he said he’d do. Zhis is vhere he vanted us to vait.”

“It has to be a trap.”

“Xavier, please.”

“Well, we’re early. Do you have a deck of cards? A book? Anything?”

“Nein.”

“Lovely... Now we just stand and _wait_.”

And so they waited, kicking at the dust and playing I-Spy until Medic just kept picking Spy as his object and refused to stop giggling over it because he, of course, was a Spy.

At 7:10 exactly, they heard approaching footsteps.

“Adrien-Louis,” Medic greeted.

The RED Spy uncloaked, and gave them a little bow.

“ _Bon soir._ I trust the drive here was nice?” he asked with a lazy smile.

“Delightful,” BLU Spy muttered.

“Disregard his mood. He put on some popular music playing on zhe radio, und now he doesn’t want to think about it,” Medic said, sliding his gloved hands into his pockets.

The RED Spy gave a laugh, nodding a bit in acknowledgement.

“I trust you have your invisibility watch,” he said to his BLU counterpart, who nodded in response, lifting his sleeve a bit to show him.

“Better safe than sorry,” the RED Spy said, handing the Medic another watch.

“All you have to do is press that button, and we should be able to get back inside without being spotted. If we take the side entrance, there probably won’t be anyone there, anyway. There was nobody present when I was exiting, and half my team is playing poker out front.”

The BLUs nodded. Without a word, the three mercs cloaked, and headed inside.

As the RED Spy had predicted, there wasn’t anybody in the side hallway, and they made it to the Spy’s destination undisturbed.

He let them in, and shut the door behind them. A flick of his gloved finger turned the lights on.

“Is this your meeting room?” Spy asked, looking around.

The centerpiece was a big table, and there were enough chairs for all of the RED team. An overstuffed binder and a few folders still sat on top. The walls were covered in various posters, maps, lists, strategies, and papers of all sorts in between.

There was an overhead projector sitting on a small desk in the corner. Clearly, it wasn’t an important item, as a potted plant had been set on top of it.

“Yes, but we don’t always use it for meetings because my teammates think it takes me too long to tear out the recording devices. Sometimes we have our meetings in the library,” the RED Spy said, taking a seat and inviting the BLUs to do the same.

“Our official meeting room’s table isn’t even a real table. Someone replaced it vizh a pool table,” Medic said.

“Wait, you have a library? The ‘library’ in our base is a bookshelf in the living room,” Spy said.

“Yes. From what I’ve seen of your base, you have a lounge instead,” the RED Spy replied.

“You’ve been in our base?” Medic asked, frowning.

“Just for fun. I wouldn’t mess with you after hours,” the RED replied, smiling.

“In all fairness, I have been in your base, too,” the BLU Spy said. “But not in your library. Does anyone actually use it? I would like to see it.”

“Later,” the RED promised. “And nobody really uses it but myself.”

“Vell, our Spy here took zhe lounge for himself. Und now it smells like cigarette and wood smoke,” Medic said.

“You all have your own rooms anyway. Besides, you do not allow me to smoke,” the BLU Spy muttered, making his opposite laugh.

“Maybe I should take the library for myself, then,” he said.

“Ah, I almost forgot to mention. I brought wine, in case you wanted something to drink,” the BLU Spy said, putting the bottle on the table.

“What a coincidence,” the RED replied. “I have some, too. Can I trust you two to stay here while I get some glasses?”

Medic’s nose wrinkled. “Do you have anyzhing else to drink?”

“If you’re going to be that one person who insists on drinking water...” the RED began.

Medic scoffed. “It’s good for you,” he retorted.

“Water it is,” RED Spy said.

“Danke,” the Medic replied.

“By the way, the Sniper - my teammate, I mean - wanted to bring some beer? The stuff is horrid, but that’s my opinion. I told him to just join us if he was going to offer anything, but he wasn’t sure if either of you would be comfortable with that,” the RED Spy said.

The BLU Spy tried not to yell. He focused on his opposite, trying to ignore the burning sensation of the Medic watching him through his peripheral vision, gauging his response and level of approval of the idea. Then the feeling faded.

“Let him join us. Zhe more, zhe merrier - und ve could use zhe help,” Medic said finally.

The RED Spy nodded, and left without another word to retrieve the glasses.

When the door closed behind him, quiet settled.

“Do you think he noticed?” the Spy asked, staring at the table.

“Noticed vhat?”

“How I reacted.”

“Vhat are you saying?”

The Spy didn’t respond. He closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure what he was saying, either, but his heart was fluttering.

“Come on, ve vill be fine. Don’t vorry. Do you still zhink zhey vill attack us?”

“No, not anymore. I suppose. But... I am wondering why the Sniper is involved.”

“Vell, I don’t know vhy, but it vas zhe Sniper who spoke to me first. Because he’s easier to trust zhan zhe Spy, I suppose.”

“I suppose that makes enough sense,” Spy said, but he was obviously still unsure. Especially since he’d spent quite a bit of time with the Sniper recently, himself. Had the RED Spy been disguised as the Sniper to appear more trustworthy?

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of the door being unlocked. Both of the BLUs were immediately put on alert, but it really was just the RED Spy coming back, wine glasses in hand.

And him. The RED Sniper.

“G’day,” he said, tipping his hat. He took the seat across from the BLU Spy, and set the bottle of beer on the table.

“It’s evening,” Medic commented lightly.

“I trust this is the size of our party?” the BLU Spy asked, raising an eyebrow.

His counterpart nodded. “I apologize that nobody informed you of our Sniper,” RED Spy said, nodding in the direction of the marksman, “But now you know.”

“It is no big deal,” BLU Spy replied. He was inwardly relieved that the RED Medic wouldn’t be there with them for whatever reason. It had been somewhat of an irrational fear, but a real one nonetheless.

The RED Spy poured wine into three glasses, then water into the fourth, and distributed them appropriately.

“Part of the reason I needed you two is because of my... son’s mother. When I last visited her, she wanted to know how I was keeping Dar- _Scout_ safe. And I explained to her how we’re on opposite sides of the war. She wouldn’t have any of it, and I understand. But you two can do more for him than I can, and that’s why you’re here,” RED Spy said, watching them carefully.

The BLU Spy was trying to pay attention, but he could’ve sworn that the Sniper was staring at him. It was hard to tell; the aviators with the hat on top obscured his view. He took a sip of wine, trying not to look distracted. He didn’t mention that the RED Spy wasn’t getting to the _bigger_ reason behind the meeting...

“I understand that he wouldn’t appreciate it if either if you were trying to get close to him or anything. I just really need you two to keep an eye on him. So his mother has one less thing to worry about.

“...And I know you two already agreed. But you’ll have to understand that the trust between us is tentative,” the RED Spy said.

“Ve understand,” the Medic said.

“The feeling is mutual,” BLU Spy added curtly.

Ignoring him, the RED Spy took out his disguise kit, along with an odd bit of machinery.

“I’ll need your disguise kit, too,” he said, looking at his counterpart.

The BLU Spy handed it over, reluctant, but also curious as to what the RED Spy was planning to do.

What he did was try to hook them up to the machine. He tugged at wires and pressed buttons.

As he tried to attach them, the four chatted about things related and unrelated to the topic at hand. It was mostly the Medic and RED Spy’s voices in the air, though. The Sniper and BLU Spy were mostly watching each other watch each other.

“L- Sniper, will you get me the scissors from the closet? It shouldn’t be hard to find them,” the RED Spy asked.

Closet? The Medic and BLU Spy exchanged a look. There wasn’t a door to be seen in the room but the entrance.

Without a word, the Sniper got up, and walked around the table. He lifted papers on the wall behind the BLUs until he found a fingerhold, and pulled open a door to what was indeed a small supply closet.

The Medic and Spy were staring, impressed.

Then Spy turned his attention to his wineglass. He resisted the urge to watch. The Sniper behind him also made him a bit nervous. He didn’t like having his back exposed, even though _he_ was usually the one aiming for people’s backs.

To distract himself, he stood and pushed his chair aside. The Spy reached for his bottle of wine across the table. He’d finished his glass, and wanted some more, even though his head was starting to feel foggy.

The doorknob rattled, and the idle conversation halted altogether.

The RED Spy cursed, and tore wires apart. He hastily hit a few buttons on one of the disguise kits, and tossed it to the Medic, who just barely caught it.

“Hide him, Lawrence!” he hissed to the Sniper as he fiddled with the other disguise kit.

The Sniper didn’t even say anything about his teammate using his name. He grabbed the back of the BLU Spy’s suit jacket, and yanked him into the closet. Spy was getting sick of his enemies grabbing at the back of his suit.

The closet was almost completely dark, letting in no more than the slightest slivers of light from the floor and the space between door and wall. Most of it was covered with paper, blocking what little light there was to come.

“Whaddya want?” someone called from outside the closet.

Scout’s voice. The BLU Spy could tell it was the enemy Spy, not the actual RED Scout, due to the slight alteration to his tone, thanks to the disguise kit that helped with the voice acting but also added its own sort of sound. Why was he disguising as the Scout, anyway? He was already a RED.

Spy heard the meeting door opening. Then some shuffling around.

“Vas looking for Konrad.”

The RED Heavy.

 _Looking for Konrad..._ The BLU Spy shuddered. Konrad Freitag. That was the name of the RED Medic. He felt an arm around his back, pulling him away from the door. Not that there was much space to retreat to.

“I am occupied,” the BLU Medic, probably disguised as his counterpart, said.

“Yeah, so why don’t you beat it?” the RED Spy said, replicating the Scout’s voice perfectly, the way the BLU Spy was also able to.

More words. Spy stopped listening, because the awkward standing position he was in was getting uncomfortable, and his mind was filling with images of the RED Medic.

He didn’t realize he was cussing under his breath until the Sniper finally spoke.

“Shhh,” Sniper whispered, petting the back of Spy’s head with a hand as reassuringly as possible.

Spy tensed at the touch. He squirmed, trying to shake the Sniper’s arm off his back. Was he armed? He had to be armed. Or maybe there was a knife on one of the shelves in the closet, lined with various objects. There had to be a weapon somewhere...

Sniper wrapped his other arm around the Spy, trying to stop his struggling in the already too-tight space.

“Calm down, spook. Calm down,” Sniper murmured, resting his chin on the top of Spy’s head in his awkward and failing attempt to hold Spy in place.

“Konrad,” the Spy growled, voice quiet enough so as not to be heard from outside, but just barely.

“The Medic? He wouldn’t hurt y- oh,” the Sniper said, stopping himself mid-sentence. “Sorry.” he added.

Spy trembled, and shut his eyes, trying to block the memories. The memories that didn’t surface in the day, when he was able to murder the RED Medic, get his revenge again and again...

“Hey, I’m sorry. Almost forgot that he, uh... you know,” Sniper whispered, resuming his funny little petting ritual that Spy decided not to say made him feel like a small wild animal.

Then the Spy shook his head. He really didn’t want to think about it, and buried himself in the Sniper’s shirt. The same one he’d cut with his knife... And how did the Sniper _know_ , anyway? Had the RED Medic told his whole team?

The Spy went back to cursing.

“Shh. I don’t know what those words mean, okay? Sorry. They’re almost done talking, I think,” Sniper mumbled.

Slowly, slowly, Spy relaxed, letting the smell of gunpowder and soap envelop him. He hadn’t noticed he’d been holding onto Sniper’s waist with a grip like a vice, and relaxed his arms, too.

“There we go,” the Sniper breathed, relieved that the Spy hadn’t given them away.

They didn’t let go of each other. Spy could feel the Sniper’s heartbeat, and as his breathing slowed and steadied, he practically melted into the marksman’s arms. Spy thought it was too nice to let go and no way would he let go no matter wh - was that a _boner?_

The door was flung open.

It was a comical scene. Spy didn’t even look up, but Sniper had turned to see the RED Spy, still disguised as the RED Scout, and Medic staring at them. The Medic cleared his throat.

“He’s gone,” the RED Spy said, in his real voice, which was funny in the Scout’s body.

The Sniper and Spy untangled, stammering excuses.

“Think he’s, uh, had too much to drink,” Sniper said lamely, scratching the back of his head.

The RED Spy dropped the disguise and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“I did not,” the BLU Spy grumbled, closing the closet door and sitting back down.

“I think we’ll have to cut our little meeting short, before anyone else shows up,” the RED Spy said, rubbing his temples the way the BLU Spy often did.

“Do you two think you can come back tomorrow? I know we have a battle tomorrow; it says so on our schedule. It _also_ says that it’s supposed to be a surprise of some sort, but it’s literally on our calendars. Only surprising for the unprepared, I suppose. And... I know we usually have our Saturdays off, but if you two aren’t busy afterwards, I’ll definitely be here,” he said.

The Medic glanced at the Spy, who was staring at his empty wine glass almost mournfully.

“Ja. Pick us up at zhe same time after vork,” he said.

Spy still didn’t say anything. He had no objections, not anymore. The REDs had proven themselves trustworthy - at least for the time being.  
And the Sniper... he exhaled softly. He wished he was still in those arms. The Sniper was so damn warm that not being close to him made everything else feel _cold_.

 

Medic drove the two home. As promised, his car was untouched. He turned on the radio, and Spy didn’t protest to the music, even though he didn’t like it.

They rode in silence. The Spy was looking out the window, chin on his hand. The night had blanketed the desert, and it was chilly, but also serene.

They’d only been at RED base for about two hours - it was around 9:25 - but the Spy was tired. He wanted to rest.

“Xavier,” the Medic said, softly.

Spy blinked himself awake. He hadn’t even realized that he’d started to drift off on the short drive.

“Ve’re back. Let’s go,” Medic said.

The Spy nodded, and got out the car. He smacked his right arm, which had fallen asleep.

The Medic raised an eyebrow at the display. “Come on,” he said.

 

When the Spy was back in his room, he hardly had enough energy to scan for any stupid recording devices before undressing. He crawled onto his bed after, kicking his pants off and throwing his suit and waistcoat down.  
His dress shirt was only half-unbuttoned, and his socks with their respective garters were still on. Not to mention his thigh garter, with the bullets and knife it held.

He didn’t bother taking everything off. Spy removed his balaclava, and adjusted the blanket over himself. Good enough.

He’d be awake early, but that hardly mattered. His sleep schedule was easily fixed. It always was.

Spy could feel the scar on his chest from the Sniper’s recent shivving. And the one on his arm from the same blade.

He couldn’t drive away the thoughts of the Sniper, especially not after having practically cuddled him, standing up, in the closet when they were hiding.

His scent was absolutely intoxicating and it made Spy red just thinking about him.

And his heartbeat. _God._ He'd been nervous. Then again, Spy _had_ been shaking in his arms; he couldn’t deny that.

Then Spy remembered that the Sniper wasn’t just nervous. He’d been _turned on_. There was no other explanation, because the Spy was fairly sure about what exactly had been pressing against his leg - but he hadn’t minded, anyway...

Spy bit his lip as he hoped to be caught alone with the marksman again.

 _Oui, s’il vous plaît._ he thought, his hands starting to wander.

The Spy clamped his teeth down on his blanket so nobody would hear him moan the Sniper’s name during climax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French speakers - you’ll likely notice errors in my translations. This is because I mostly just used Google translate, despite the fact that I’m in my sixth year of French. Try not to laugh.
> 
> Anyway, our charming BLU Spy would address groups of people and his superiors with ‘vous’, but he’ll also use it to those around his age/status; his teammates. This is not out of respect nor formality (as vous is used as a plural ‘you’, but also as a singular ‘you’ to somebody like, say, your professor). This is because he is a sarcastic little shit and since most of the other mercs don’t speak French, they don’t know he’s _being_ a sarcastic little shit.
> 
> I’m not entirely sure if that’s how his using ‘vous’/plural and formal you can be taken, but that’s just the reason I write it like that instead of using ‘tu’/singular you. I hope that makes sense. 
> 
> P.S. ‘I love you’ is an exception. I think you can guess why.


	6. Names

Spy could hardly keep his attention on Saturday’s ‘impromptu’ battle. Thoughts of the Sniper continued to invade his thoughts. He tried to focus, taking deep breaths and thinking about killing, but he couldn't do it.

"You'll have to try a little harder zhan zhat!" the RED Medic snarled, running him through with his bonesaw.

When Spy respawned, he was on edge. Although his team was winning, he knew they were still counting on him to put in effort.

He buried his head in his hands, cursing to himself in frustration.

"Oi, get going."

Spy looked up to see his team’s Sniper watching him. The Spy paused, not wanting to make a comment about how his Sniper would never die in battle unless it was by his own revolver or balisong and-

_His Sniper!_

He was doing it again. Spy frowned and his teammate thought it had been directed at him.

“Don’t give me any of that, Spy. The enemy Demo took out everyone who was on the cart.”

As if on cue, the Scout respawned.

“The hell’s goin’ on here? Some kinda tea party or somethin’? Let’s freakin’ _go_ ,” he said, dashing out.

Spy watched him leave, wondering if the RED Spy had seen him die. Or if he’d killed the boy himself.

The Sniper nudged the Spy’s shoulder with his bow, and trotted out after the Scout.

“C’mon, we need you to take down the sentry,” he said before the automatic door shut.

Trying to look compliant but likely just coming off as grumpy, Spy stood and followed the Sniper out.

He reached for his disguise kit- shit. Did the Medic still have it? Or the RED Spy? Probably the Medic, just forgetting to give it back. He’d have to work with just the inviswatch, then. Nothing to be done. Not even a hindrance when he retrieved his Your Eternal Reward, which didn’t allow the use of the kit anyway.

As he got closer to the thick of things, he could indeed hear the beeping of the enemy sentry in the distance. His team was struggling after the RED Demoman’s kills, but they were pushing back well with their recovery.

There was a flash of red out the corner of his eye, and the Spy cloaked instinctively. The RED Scout, the person the RED Spy had disguised as the night before... Spy was still curious as to why, but there was no time to question it. He had a sentry to take down.

The Engineer was keeping a watchful eye on his toys. A familiar humming told Spy that he also had a teleporter up, and that someone had teleported in.

Spy picked up an ammo box to replenish his cloak energy, then contemplated methods of destruction for a moment. And yet his feet carried him past the sentry nest.

In the exact same roost he’d been occupying for past work week, the RED Sniper was aiming shots out the window. The sight of him brought a rush of mixed emotions in the Spy.

Sniper looked away from his scope.

“Somebody there?” he called.

“Bonjour, _chasseur_ ,” Spy said softly as he uncloaked. His gaze was wistful, and he couldn’t help it.

“Oh, it’s you. Come to kill me?” Sniper asked.

“Maybe,” Spy replied.

The corner of Sniper’s mouth twitched upwards.

“Then hurry it up, we haven’t got all day, spook,” he said, returning his focus to the rifle.

Spy picked up the ammo floating behind the Sniper, and walked up to him, recloaking.

“Tenez-moi,” Spy murmured. “ _S’il vous plaît_.”

“Don’t speak French, you know,” Sniper said.

The Spy leaned against Sniper’s back, giving a weary sigh across his neck, feeling the marksman’s dark hair tickle him. He was warm. Always warm. And his scent was getting to the Spy again, making his thoughts hazy, reminding him of last night’s wine.

“ _Promettez-moi_...” he mumbled, wrapping an arm around the Sniper’s waist as he’d done before. His right hand - the one holding the knife - was poised to strike, but it was shaking.

“...Que vous serez à moi,” Spy said.

“Do you really expect me to understand that?” Sniper asked, laughing softly.

“No,” Spy said.

“Stab me,” Sniper replied.

So the Spy closed his eyes and dug his knife in. When the Sniper would respawn in a few minutes, he’d wonder why there’d been a faint pressure on the back of his neck if the knife had been between his shoulderblades.  
Spy wondered, briefly, if he should confess to the Sniper that the press had been from him kissing the Sniper’s neck, hard and fast before making his swift kill.

 

After the battle - another BLU victory - the Spy and Medic were relaxing in the medical office.

“Isaak, do you have my disguise kit?” Spy asked.

Medic stamped a paper. “Your vhat? Oh! Ja, over here. Actually, I can’t tell if it’s yours or zhe RED Spy’s,” he said, getting up.

Spy glanced at the papers, but he stopped trying to read them when he got to a row of furious handwriting about various animal organs.

Medic pulled the disguise kit out of one of his many cabinets. He handed it over to the Spy, who checked the inside immediately. Although the devices were fairly similar, barring any tinkering from their respective Engineers, there was one thing that marked the owner clearer than anything else - the cigarettes.

“This is not my disguise kit,” Spy said, plucking one of the cigarettes inside. White and orange Gauloises, as opposed to the brown and gold Sobranies he owned. There were also more of them, which made sense, as the RED Spy did not have his Medic confiscating his.

“You can trade zhem later,” Medic said, returning to his paperwork.

“I know. Also, why do you not get on the RED Spy about his smoking habits? They have always been far worse than mine,” Spy asked, shutting the case and tucking it in his suit.

“Because I am not his doctor,” Medic replied.

Spy supposed it made enough sense that Medic really only gave his doctoring energy to his own team. His limits got irritating at times, but at least everyone was healthier than they _could_ be... with the exception of their Demoman, who, whether sober or drunk, listened to nobody.

The Spy was reading his novel again. The medical office was so quiet. The din consisted of soft dove cooing, the ticking of a clock, and the Medic’s pen scratching on paper. Spy fell asleep on the chair he’d been sitting on.

“Xavier. Ve should get going. You haven’t eaten yet, have you? I vanted to let you rest,” Medic said, rousing him.

“It is fine, let us go now,” Spy said, getting up to stretch.

The two headed to the Medic’s car. Spy was still a bit sleepy, but he was starting to wake up.

Medic switched the radio station to one that played classical music. It sounded like it was coming out of a toaster, but the two liked it more than Top 100 Hits, at least. Spy said nothing, settling into the car’s seat.

The drive was peaceful and quiet. Medic parked in the same spot as the day before, and the two waited by the same spire of rock.

“Bon soir,” came a voice.

The RED Spy uncloaked in front of the BLUs, and handed Medic an invisibility watch.

“Sniper’s already waiting, let’s go,” he said, cloaking and heading for the door.

Medic and the BLU Spy followed as closely as they could manage.

“Shit. Stop,” the RED Spy hissed, just as the side door opened.

Spy and Medic could see the RED Scout inside, looking very confused at the door seemingly opening on its own. The two flattened against the wall as their cloaks faded.

“Going somewhere?” the RED Spy asked, dropping his own cloak in front of the Scout, effectively startling him.

“Wh- no! Just lookin’ for somethin’,” Scout retorted.

“You know what happened last time you left base on your own,” RED Spy said.

Scout backed up, a bit of fear creeping up on him, mixed with annoyance.

“Whatever, okay?” he said.

Spy put his arm around the Scout’s shoulders, and turned him around.

“Then I’m sure you can find what you need _inside_ base,” he said, a distinct note of warning in his voice.

“Okay, okay! Fine!” Scout snapped, shaking the Spy’s arm off.

“I zhought I heard somezhing?” another voice called.

The BLU Spy froze in place. That had come from the RED Medic. Ugh.

“Just caught Scout trying to sneak out.” RED Spy said coolly.

“I can take care of my patients myself, Adrien-Louis.” the Medic deadpanned.

“Then keep a better eye on him next time, _Konrad_. You’re not taking care of him if he isn’t even with you.” Spy said.

There was a pause.

“Joshua. _Kommen_ ,” the Medic finally said.

Two pairs of footsteps going, one pair coming. And before the BLUs knew it, RED Spy was back at the door.

“Hurry,” he whispered, ushering the Medic and BLU Spy in and practically pushing them into the meeting room.

“What took you so long?” Sniper asked. “Heard commotion in the hallway, and I almost came out to see what the bloody hell was going on. Thought you guys got caught.”

“Joshua and Konrad,” RED Spy replied, rolling his eyes.

The Sniper gave a snort; evidently that was all the explanation that he needed.

Medic and BLU Spy exchanged a look, with Spy cringing slightly at the RED Medic’s name again. They were obviously not in on whatever joke was between the RED mercs.

Sniper noticed, and tried to explain. “They’ve been spending a lot more time together. Alone. Now, Scout’s probably been messing up more than usual and breaking half his limbs in a single round twice daily, but we’d like to think it’s something more.”

“They’re adorable together,” RED Spy said, hiding his smile with a hand.

The Medic and BLU Spy exchanged another look. They weren’t sure if he was making an implication about his own son the BLU Scout and the BLU Medic or...

“He’s had two and a half glasses of wine by now, just ignore him,” Sniper said, pouring more for the BLUs.

“Yes, well, I hope he can still function,” BLU Spy said.

Medic nodded in agreement as he unbuttoned his uniform to drape it across the back of his chair. “He needs zhe disguise kit, ja? Vell now zhat ve are here, I assume he can show us what he needs to.”

The BLU Spy slid the kit across the table, and the RED took it to hook it up to the unidentified machine.

“Why did you not ask the Engineer to help you?” BLU Spy asked, taking a sip of wine.

“He... doesn’t know that the BLU Scout is my son,” RED Spy replied carefully. “I’ve told enough people.

“He has more important things to worry about,” Spy added.

“Vasn’t he zhe vone who created zhe machine?” Medic asked.

“Yes. I modified it myself,” RED Spy said. “I have non-Spy class related skills too, you know.”

“Und you could impress everyone else, if you cared,” Medic said, smiling faintly.

“Probably, but why should I? Always best to keep what you can up your sleeve,” RED Spy said. He seemed to have more to say, but paused.

“I forgot I need the damn scissors,” he said.

Sniper got up, and searched the wall for the closet door again.

“Here,” BLU Spy said, turning to help him. He lifted a sheet of paper with a bunch of circles and arrows scribbled on it, and slid his fingers across the wall until they caught so he could pull the door open.

“How’d you find it so quickly?” Sniper asked, impressed.

The BLU Spy looked at him, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“I am observant. I think I would remember where it is after yesterday,” he said, voice low.

Sniper reddened, and headed into the closet to look for the scissors that were apparently very important.

There was a loud crash, and BLU Spy practically leapt to his feet. The Sniper cursed. Medic didn’t even turn around, but the RED Spy had been startled.

“What the fucking hell are you doing? Is it that hard to find a pair of scissors?” the BLU Spy asked.

The Sniper was still upright, but he was surrounded by a heavy sprinkling of random metal bits.

“I can _handle_ it myself, mate,” he grumbled.

BLU Spy rolled his eyes, and grabbed the fallen bucket to help put the metal back in. There weren’t any scissors in the pile.

“Don’t cut yourself on zhe metal. I didn’t bring my medigun,” Medic said, pouring more water into his wineglass.

“I can handle it my bleedin’ self,” Sniper growled as he picked up pieces of metal. Despite his words, he didn’t tell the Spy to leave.

“Why’s there a bucket of metal in here, anyway?” Sniper asked in irritation.

“Theodore likes to build things while we have meetings,” RED Spy reminded him.

The BLU Spy could practically feel their heat mingling again. He looked up. The Sniper’s head was to the floor. There wasn’t a light in the closet, and the two were working from the light coming in from the room.

“Sniper,” BLU Spy said softly. They made eye contact, and the Spy looked back down.

“About yesterday,” he began. “...I appreciate it. I do not usually lose myself. It is just that I am not fond of your Medic.”

Sniper chuckled. “I know, mate,” he said.

A pause.

“Hey,” the Sniper murmured, repositioning his hand.

BLU Spy looked back up. Sniper took the Spy’s wrist, and pulled him in, kissing him gently.

“I- Sniper...” Spy stammered when they parted. He was at a complete loss for words, uncharacteristic of him.

“Call me Lawrence,” the Sniper replied, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's cute.


	7. Honesty, Truth, Trust

The bucket of scrap metal was refilled, and a pair of scissors had been retrieved.

When the Sniper pulled them out, Spy couldn’t help but gawk. They were huge. Closer to the size of large gardening shears than plain old scissors. No wonder he’d knocked over the bucket trying to retrieve them.

“Why the fuck are they so big?” he asked, in awe but also somewhat cowed.

His expression was aghast when the Sniper opened and closed them experimentally and they produced an awful screeching noise.

“Dunno, but it’s one of the only pairs of scissors we have in base. Not like anyone really uses scissors in the first place,” Sniper said, setting them on the table.

“What are you planning to do with them? Cutting paper?” BLU Spy asked, studying it.

“I’m not cutting anything with them. They weren’t made for cutting, which I suppose you can tell because of the terrible noise they make. Coincidentally, they’re made of silver, and that’s why I needed them. Silver is the best conductor of electricity, you know,” RED Spy replied, dragging them across the table to him so he could tinker with them.

BLU Spy was tempted to reply that yes, he _did_ know that. More or less. Once, years ago, he’d found that out personally after electrocuting three people with three different metals. In the end, they all died, but one of the people was _especially_ dead. Nonetheless, the smell of burning flesh and hair, mingled with pained human screaming, did not make the experience enjoyable.

“I am not an expert on such things, but why has the metal not corroded?” he asked instead, watching whatever his RED counterpart was trying to do.

“I’m not entirely sure, actually. I doubt anyone on the team has bothered to try to preserve them. The best I can suggest is that the conditions in the closet are good for silver,” RED Spy said.

“Is there a good reason a good reason as to why you just have a large chunk of silver in a random closet in your base?” BLU Spy asked.

“Probably not,” RED Spy replied, carefully attaching wires to the scissors.

“Then how did you know they were here?” BLU Spy questioned, raising an eyebrow.

RED Spy paused, and smiled.

“That’s a secret,” he said.

As they’d done several times before, the BLUs exchanged looks. From the Spy, a bit of an _I told you so_. From the Medic, something more along the lines of _I know what you’re thinking so stop thinking it_.

BLU Spy wondered if it would be worth voicing his fears of being electrocuted as a sort of sick, twisted payback for his murder-via-electricity-related sins of the past.

“I do not see how this has to do with protecting your son. You already know the limits of what we can do for ‘im,” he said, instead of trying to voice his murder-via-electricity-related thoughts.

“You will have to trust me,” RED Spy said.

“Then what are you using all of this for?” BLU Spy asked. He just wanted answers.

“Nothing yet. It’s... I needed to set this up first,” RED replied.

“Then why are we here?”

“Because I need you to listen to me and understand the gravity of my situation.”

“Explain.”

“I- ...” the RED Spy faltered, shot a desperate look to the Medic, who sighed.

“He cannot, but I can. To put it bluntly, ve'll all be dead if ve don’t stop dying,” Medic said, looking extremely displeased, but not as much as the RED Spy.

“For fuck’s sake, the hell are you talking about? We die every bleedin’ day,” Sniper said, crossing his arms.

He was the only one who didn’t notice BLU Spy’s shocked stare directed at the Medic.

 _How much does he know?_ Spy wondered. _And what does he mean by how he_ 'cannot' _explain? Surely, the RED Spy knows as much as, if not more than, Isaak._

Medic shook his head in an almost patronizing manner, as if the matter was too complicated to be understood.

“Zhere is a reason zhe respawn systems have been glitching. Zhe Engineers, possibly vizh some of BLU and RED’s employees, have been trying to fix zhem, but I don’t zhink even _zhey_ know vhat zhe reason _is_ ,” Medic said. He paused for a moment before turning to the BLU Spy, attempting an apologetic expression at not having previously divulged the information he’d secretly had a hold of the whole time.

“You’re just making this more confusing.” Sniper muttered.

“Can it be fixed?” BLU Spy asked, watching his counterpart fiddle with wires. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say to Medic.

“Ve hope so, but it’s too soon to be able to tell.” Medic said, still staring at BLU Spy who was ignoring him.

“And... you are using that to help you?” the BLU Spy questioned.

“No, but it’s related to the respawn issues.” RED Spy replied, tearing one of the wires out completely.

“How? You two can’t just leave us in the dark, mate.” Sniper said, reclining.

BLU Spy felt a stupid rush of glee when the Sniper said ‘ _us_ ’.

“My son,” RED Spy began curtly, “is dying.” He tried to sound irritated, but his voice caught on the word ‘dying’.

“We saw him today, and he looked just fine.” BLU Spy said as reassuringly as he could manage.

RED Spy shook his head, took a small breath. “In a way, we’re all coded into the respawn system. Sometimes there are updates to the codes to improve the process, but the machines themselves aren’t entirely reliable and _any_ mistakes in our codes can be dangerous. There are hiccups in the system, so to speak.

“To put it simply, there’s a glitch within the Scout’s code. I don’t know if he’s the only one. It’s possible that the rest of us can fall prey to similar problems. Whenever we respawn, our own codes are called upon, along with the codes of our possessions, and they’re run into the system. Some errors can and will prove fatal with too many respawns disrupting them and making them more unstable,” he said, looking back down to his machinery, visibly distressed.

BLU Spy downed his wine, not sure how to take in the information. When he set the glass back on the table, he caught Sniper looking at him. They held their gazes for a moment before Sniper turned back to the RED Spy.  
“So what’s the machine for?” Sniper asked.

“For the Scout.” RED Spy deadpanned.

“What?! You don’t plan on using that thing on him, do you? He’s just a boy; you can’t do that! Whatever it is you’re planning!” Sniper exclaimed, appalled.

“Surely you do not mean to experiment on your own son,” BLU Spy whispered.

“I have to! It’s the only option I have left, don’t you understand? Months ago, I would’ve never allowed myself to do a thing as dangerous as speaking with the enemy team nor putting Scout in danger like this, but I’m grasping at straws now, and it’s brought me to you two,” RED Spy said, staring at the BLUs, desperation clear on his face.

“Do zhe Engineers know zhis?” Medic asked, projecting calm.

“About the respawn, a bit. About my son, no,” RED Spy replied.

“How did you even find out about him in zhe first place?” Medic asked.

“I snuck into your base to review your medical records. I knew what to look for in terms of respawn-related issu- stop looking at me like that; I was only after _his_ papers,” RED Spy said.

“Zhat explains vhy zhere vere some missing,” Medic replied, sighing.

“I apologize for that,” RED Spy said.

“Zhere’s no need to vorry about it at zhis point. I managed to organize quite a few documents because I vas looking for zhem,” Medic said.

“I cannot do this any longer. You must agree that you are crossing some kind of _line_.” BLU Spy said, getting up.

His counterpart glared at him, but the anger melted.

“Please. I need all the help I can get,” RED Spy said.

The BLU just shook his head, and cloaked. Nobody said a word as the door opened and shut softly. Now Medic looked genuinely worried, and started to get up, too.

“Will he tell anyone?” RED Spy asked.

“Nein. I doubt it.” Medic replied, pulling his uniform back on over his waistcoat.

“Sit back down, mate,” Sniper said to him, getting up. “You two are the only ones who actually know what’s going on-” Medic tried to protest that, but the Sniper wasn’t having it, “-and the only thing I can do at this point is fetch him.”

“Let him go.” RED Spy said, passing him an invisibility watch. Medic sat back down, and rested his elbows on the table, fingers interlaced in front of his mouth, obscuring his somewhat hurt expression.

Sniper tipped his hat, took the watch, and left.

As soon as he stepped out of RED base and the door closed behind him, he was tackled to the earth.

“ _Fils de pute!_ ”

With a blue-tinted flicker, the BLU Spy’s cloak fell as he straddled the Sniper.

“Which one of them are you? Who else is with you? I knew I should not have left my disguise kit behind. I knew this would happen. I fucking warned Isaak. Did you hurt Isaak? You will pay very, very dearly for that.” Spy growled.

Sniper raised his hands, showing his lack of weapons and therefore lack of intent to harm.

“It’s just me, mate,” he said, trying not to sound defensive.

Spy hesitated. He produced a balisong from what seemed to be thin air, and flicked it open.

“Hey, hey! No need for any of that. I’m not even armed; that’s not fair,” Sniper said, frowning in mock disapproval. Or maybe genuine disapproval.

The Spy pressed the knife to Sniper’s throat, wary and still not ready to trust the man’s words. The RED Spy was, after all, a master of disguises, just like himself. And there were enough invisibility watches for everyone else to be cloaked around the two, ready to drag Spy back indoors.

“I do not believe you,” Spy said.

Sniper paused, contemplating his options. His fingers relaxed. Faster than the Spy could react, the Sniper cupped Spy’s face in his hands, and pulled him in, pressing their lips together with the awkward aim of somebody lying on the uneven ground with a knife at their throat.

“Okay, now I believe it is you,” Spy breathed.

Sniper laughed a bit. “Good,” he said, pecking the Spy’s cheek.

“Look, I’d love to stay and chat out here, but we need you. Really,” he said.

Spy looked at him sideways. “Did you come out here just to bribe me back indoors, or did you come out here just to kiss me?” he asked.

“Neither. Well, I don’t exactly regret it. But I came out here because I want you with us... and with me,” Sniper replied, bashful.

Spy carefully got off of the Sniper, and they both stood, patting the dust off their clothes.

“It _feels_ like bribery,” Spy admitted.

Sniper pulled him in by the waist and kissed his forehead.

“M’sorry about that, and I understand, but there’s something bigger at hand and I’m not sure we can solve it on our own. The Engineers are pretty damn smart, but we need all the people we can get - since there aren’t many people _to_ get. How many of the others do you think would stick around if we told them that their next death could be permanent?” he asked.

Spy nodded in understanding, taking a deep breath for composure. He wasn’t going to pretend that he approved of his opposite’s idea, but he did have to admit that the respawn issues had to be tended to before something worse happened to everyone. Although his teammates weren’t his favourite people, he wasn’t exactly okay with losing them all in a stupid gravel war that made no damn sense.

Sniper took the Spy’s hands in his own, and leaned in.

“We’ll be okay,” he said softly, so close to Spy that he could feel the marksman’s breath against his skin.

Spy was a bit taken aback. Where did that come from? What exactly was he alluding to? Their relationship? Their lives? He was too worn-out to ask, but it made him feel better.

Without another word, the two headed back inside. Spy almost forgot to cloak before the automatic door slid open, but it didn’t matter as there was nobody in the hallway. Except for cameras. Maybe. Spy wasn’t sure how the RED base was wired, and he wasn’t exactly eager to find out by alerting the alarm system that he, of all BLUs, was in their base...

“Oh, thank god,” RED Spy said as the Sniper entered.

BLU Spy uncloaked as he took his seat. He wasn’t sure if his counterpart was relieved that the Sniper was back (in one piece, no less), or that the Sniper had brought _him_ back (also in one piece).

“Zhat vas fast,” Medic said, keeping his tone mild and expression guarded.

“Yeah, well he was right outside the door-” Sniper began, but the BLU Spy kicked his shin, and he stopped talking.

The Medic and RED Spy decided to ignore his abrupt stop, and continued with their business as if the whole disruption hadn’t occurred in the first place.

“I’m... not entirely sure if this will work on the Scout, but we have to try,” RED Spy said quietly.

“Then why are you...?” BLU Spy said, but he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

RED Spy just shook his head. “Like I said, I’ve tried other methods already. You... probably don’t want to ask. His condition is worsening, and if there’s any time to take horrible risks, it’s now. It’s better we _try_ , that we’re able to say we tried, than letting him die slowly,” he said, not even bothering to maintain eye contact with his counterpart.

The stillness in the air was stifling, until it was broken with words.

“If he finds out, he won’t forgive you,” Sniper warned.

“I know.”


	8. Dust and Haze

After sitting in relative quiet for a while, BLU Spy got up. The meeting room was starting to feel stuffy, and he needed air.

“I am going to go see your library,” he said.

The Sniper and Medic began to oppose, but RED Spy silenced them with a wave of his gloved hand. 

“I promised you I’d show you the library, but I’m not quite done here,” he sighed.

“I volunteer,” Sniper mumbled, as if anyone else could locate the library. Though he, too, had had enough of friendly merc togetherness time.

“I am sure you two have much to discuss,” BLU Spy muttered, leaving as he cloaked.

Medic looked like he wanted to go after him as he wanted to earlier, but RED Spy rested a hand on his arm and shook his head slightly.

“He will listen to you,” the Spy promised quietly, understanding the friendship and emotions that were getting between the BLUs. “Just give him his time alone.”

The Medic was tempted to mention that he wasn’t alone at all and that the Sniper was going with him, but there wasn’t any reason to. Why should the REDs trust either of their enemies alone in their own base, anyway?

“I should’ve told him everyzhing,” Medic said, feeling guilty.

“You were justified in your carefulness,” RED Spy replied. “Now help me with this damn machine.”

 

“You did not have to come with me,” BLU Spy whispered, following the Sniper.

“Yes I did. Adrien- the Spy would’ve never let you roam our base alone,” Sniper said. He peeked around the corner.

“Adrien-Louis. We _could_ just use each other's names,” Spy sighed.

“Can you imagine how weird that’d get?” Sniper asked.

The Spy thought about it for a moment. “You have a point,” he agreed.

“Shit!” Sniper growled, shoving the Spy back.

“Stop that!” the Spy hissed as his cloak flickered.

The Sniper yanked open the closest door and shoved the Spy in, shutting it behind them.

“What the actual fuck? _Mon dieu_ , it smells like dirt in here,” Spy said, stepping back into the room. His back hit the wall.

“Plant closet,” Sniper replied sheepishly.

After a bit of reaching around, Spy realized that it was indeed a closet, not dissimilar to the one the two had been trapped in previously. He decided not to question the whole ‘plant closet’ thing.

“ _Medic!_ ” someone called.

Spy rolled his eyes. It was the Scout. He was seriously starting to believe it when the REDs had insinuated something was going on between their Scout and Medic.

“Medical office is right down the hall,” Sniper whispered, as if that would help in their current situation. If anything, it just made the Spy more uncomfortable.

“Did we have to go this way?” Spy asked quietly.

“Library only has one entrance. Sorry, mate,” Sniper replied, pressing his ear to the door.

The Spy wasn’t going to stand still and do nothing but stay hidden. He'd gone too long without causing trouble - about ten minutes, really - and he wasn't going to be kept place. 

But the Sniper was in front of him now. Perfect opportunity. He ran his fingers up the Sniper’s spine, just barely pressing down hard enough on the marksman’s vest for his touch to be felt.

“Bloody hell,” Sniper whispered, shuddering.

Spy leaned forward, snaking his other hand along the Sniper’s front and slipping the tips of his fingertips down the marksman’s pants, where his shirt was tucked in.

“Don’t do that here,” Sniper said, teeth gritted. He wasn’t particularly ticklish, but he wasn’t unaffected, either.

“ _Cher_ ,” Spy moaned in his ear, trying to sound as unnecessarily lewd as possible.

Sniper straightened, and Spy’s roaming hands retreated.

“Listen, spook. You don’t want to see me when I get riled up. Alright?” the Sniper said, voice low.

“Yes I do,” Spy replied, feeling the Sniper’s gloved hands on his hips, pulling him in despite his warning words.

When they kissed, the Sniper brought an arm around Spy’s waist, and stroked his face with his free hand.

“ _Prenez-moi_ ,” Spy whispered into the marksman’s mouth before kissing him again.

They moaned as loudly as they dared, pressed together against the back of the closet.

“Still don’t have any idea what that means,” Sniper mumbled.

“Take me,” the Spy repeated, in English. He sank his teeth in the Sniper’s neck, kissing and exploring, feeling the slight scrape of stubble against his skin.

“Not here,” Sniper replied, demonstrating impressive willpower with his hands that wanted nothing more than to tear the clothes off of Spy’s back.

“Mmn... And why not?” the Spy asked, rubbing along the Sniper’s jawline with a gloved hand. He was tempted to help the Sniper give into his desires, because he shared them and he never saw the man let go. He always had to act like a _‘professional’_.

“No space,” Sniper said, biting his lip.

“Fine,” the Spy sighed, obliging and backing up. “To the library.”

Sniper resisted the urge to kiss the Spy again to feel his tongue, and instead returned to listening out the door.

“Cloak just in case,” he instructed, twisting the knob slowly.

The Spy did as told, and the door opened a crack. A slit of light poured into the closet.

From down the hall, a very loud and absolutely _lecherous_ moan came from what had to be the medical office.

“Thanks, doc!” the RED Scout said, his loud voice piercing through the door and carrying across the hallway.

The Sniper reddened, shutting the door while the Spy snickered behind him, also horrified, but mostly amused.

“I thought you liked them together,” Spy said, trying his hardest not to laugh out loud.

“I didn’t know they were doing that in _there_ of all bloody places! Probably on the examination table, too! That’s gotta be against some bloody health code!” Sniper replied, glad that the darkness obscured his face.

“Relax. The boy is probably just being healed. He breaks his limbs everyday,” Spy said.

“Maybe the BLU Scout does,” Sniper grumbled, still unconvinced that the Scout and Medic weren’t engaging in fornication in the medical office.

He was inwardly grateful, though, that Spy was trying to reassure him despite his fear of the RED Medic. It was endearing. 

“Let’s just go while they’re busy,” the Sniper said, opening the door again.

Spy cloaked, closed the door, and they snuck out of the closet.

As promised, the library was close to the medical office. Its double doors were very out of place. Instead of being a plain white door like all of the others in the base, they were of a dark, heavy, carved wood.

“C’mon, get in,” Sniper said as he opened one door and backed up from the entrance to give Spy room to squeeze past. The Sniper felt him brush against his chest, and saw his cloak flicker blue.

When the two were safely inside, the Spy checked his inviswatch, the Cloak and Dagger. He almost always carried it with him off the battlefield, as it recharged whenever he stood still, and therefore negated the need for ammo to replenish its energy, making itself invaluable.

“You can uncloak,” Sniper said. “The RED Spy cleans this place thoroughly.”

The Spy dropped his cloak without hesitation, more than sure of his counterpart’s technological capabilities.

“He had the Engineer build a device for him. Said it sends some kind of wave through the air that disables any recording devices. It’s hidden in one of the chairs. If you listen closely, you can hear it humming,” Sniper said.

“It is quiet,” Spy murmured, nodding in appreciation. The noise wasn’t even noticeable when the two were speaking. 

“And it is lovely in here,” Spy added, sweeping his gaze over the shelves.

“Yeah. Don’t come in here often. Then again, I don’t come in base often, period,” Sniper said, sitting down on one of the dusty, cushioned seats facing a coffee table that resembled the door. Dark wood. Ornate carvings.

The tone of the entire room was dark with intricate detailing. The shelves were wooden and carried the same aesthetic. The lighting was dim (pleasant, though ill-suited for reading books). The carpet was maroon, along with the wallpaper. The feel of the library reminded Spy of his smoking room. They were remarkably similar. The library, though, didn’t feature a grand fireplace as its centrepiece. It didn’t need one; it had books.

“You have a decent number of books, but how many are worth reading?” Spy asked, skimming across the shelves.

“Dunno. Take a look for yourself,” Sniper said, settling into the seat and sending forth clouds of dust. He sneezed.

“À votre souhaits,” Spy said.

“Thanks?” Sniper replied, unsure of what to say. He assumed it was some kind of ‘bless you’.

“De riens,” Spy said, pulling a book out to inspect it. As expected, it was dusty. Evidently, the library was very underused. A shame. Though old, the Spy thought that the books appeared interesting. He slid it back into place, and walked back to the Sniper. The books could wait.

“Does the library have a closet, too?” Spy asked, draping his arms around the marksman.

“We can find out,” the Sniper said, taking one of Spy’s hands and removing the glove. Spy was tempted to smack him away, until the Sniper kissed his bare, scarred hand.

“Charming,” Spy said, smiling as he put the glove back on.

“Let us look around,” he added, taking the Sniper’s hat and putting it on.

“Hey! Give me that back,” Sniper said, getting up. He sneezed again.

“Come and get it,” Spy replied teasingly, trailing his fingers against the wall.

The Sniper followed him.

“Frisky, aren’t you?” he asked, sliding closer and resting a hand on Spy’s hip.

The Spy slapped it away, all playfulness.

“There is more to me zhan what you see on the battlefield, cher,” he said, gripping the Sniper’s shirt collar with both his hands and pulling him in for a kiss. Before the Sniper could adjust, the Spy pushed him back, and continued his search for a closet.

There didn’t seem to be one, but the corner of the library would have to be private enough. Surprisingly, it wasn’t dusty.

The Sniper addressed Spy’s thoughts. “This is the place where everyone stashes the books they read. It’s mostly just RED Spy’s stuff, though. The last shelf isn’t that clever a hiding place for anything, but it’s just library books.”

“It will do,” Spy replied, bringing a hand up Sniper’s side.

“Got anything in mind?” Sniper asked, stepping closer.

“You do not want to know,” Spy growled softly as the Sniper bit at his collarbone.

“Try me,” the Sniper replied, grabbing Spy’s waist as he nipped.

“Prenez-moi,” Spy said, repeating his words from earlier.

“I would. Gladly,” Sniper said softly, breath hot against the Spy’s exposed skin. The marksman worked at the suit jacket’s buttons.

“I do not know if we have time to do anything...” Spy gasped as Sniper bit him harder.

“They won’t mind,” Sniper said.

“Isaak would not, but your RED Spy...?” Spy asked, his words trailing off.

“Leave him. They don’t need us now,” Sniper insisted.

“You let your lust drive you,” Spy said, laughing lightly.

“And you don’t?” Sniper shot back.

“Touché,” Spy replied.

“Not even gonna take me out to dinner first?” Sniper asked, pulling Spy’s jacket off.

“Please. You are the one who gave me the beer,” Spy replied, tipping the brim of Sniper’s hat upwards with a flick of his fingers.

“Just c’mere,” Sniper mumbled as he shrugged off his vest.

“You wear too many buttons,” he said, working at Spy’s waistcoat.

“I do not always wear zhe waistcoat,” Spy said.

“Still,” Sniper said, pulling it off of him and adding it to the slowly growing pile of clothes on the carpet.

They were halfway down each other’s shirts when there was a loud _bang_ outside.

“Bloody hell,” Sniper groaned.

Reflexively, Spy pressed himself against the Sniper’s chest, even though the two of them were about as far from the library’s doors as possible.

“What was zhat?” Spy asked.

“Dunno, Scout or Medic, maybe?” Sniper replied.

“What in the fucking world are they doing in the hallway?” Spy sighed, slowly returning his fingers to the Sniper’s shirt.

“Could be anything,” Sniper said.

The Spy paused.

“Sit,” he commanded.

Sniper peered at him sideways before complying. He spread his vest on the carpet, and took a seat. As soon as he was sitting, the Spy was on his lap.

“You like being on top?” Sniper teased.

“Maybe,” Spy said, smirking. The Sniper’s grip on him made it clear that Spy could sit on top, but that didn’t mean he’d be the dominant one.

“Do you have...?” Spy began, his hands on the Sniper’s chest, feeling his heart racing.

“Uh, yeah,” Sniper said. He reached into one of his vest’s inner pockets and pulled out a small bundle.

The Spy took it from him. The cloth was knotted. Spy pulled it apart. To his surprise, the cloth wasn’t a handkerchief - it was a long strip. And it had been wrapped around a small bottle and even a condom.

“Were you planning this from the start?” Spy asked, laughing but somewhat impressed at how ready Sniper had been.

“N-no! But I thought it couldn’t hurt to _hope_ and try to get you... with me,” Sniper stammered.

Then he pulled the Spy in by the hips.

“Been waiting to get my hands on you,” he growled softly.

The Spy’s gaze on him, through his half-lidded eyes, was starting to get to the Sniper. Had they always been this damn horny?

“Well now that you have me, what will you do to me?” Spy purred, his tone inviting.

“You’re about to find out, aren’t you?” Sniper replied, undoing the Spy’s belt.

Spy studied the Sniper’s lopsided grin for a moment. Then he started to grind.

“Faire vite,” he said.

“Are you ever going to translate your fruity French words?” Sniper asked, pulling Spy’s tie loose.

“Maybe, but not today,” Spy said, unbuckling Sniper’s belt.

There was a knock on the door. They froze. More knocking, in a funny little pattern.

“It’s Spy,” Sniper whispered.

“You have a secret knock?” Spy asked, giggling shamelessly.

“It’s convenient,” Sniper retorted.

“Lawrence?” the RED Spy called.

“Yeah, it’s definitely him,” Sniper sighed, reaching for his vest.

“I regret not giving myself to you sooner, cher,” Spy murmured, making the Sniper blush again.

“It’s alright. You can visit me anytime,” Sniper replied.

“At the RED base?” Spy asked, straightening.

“No- agh, loosen your grip, will you? In case you haven’t noticed, your hand’s still in my pants,” Sniper said.

The Spy shot him a smile, reaching further in instead.

“My van, if you can make it here. When I’m not in the base - bloody hell!” Sniper exclaimed when Spy squeezed his hand.

“He’s going to be wondering what we were - _nngh_ \- doing in here... Stop that, or I’ll never get my damn clothes back on!” Sniper said, trying his best to speak through the assault in his pants.

“Then do not put them back on,” Spy replied, nipping at the Sniper’s neck.

“He’ll question us if I’m half-naked,” Sniper said.

The Spy removed his hand from Sniper’s pants. Sniper breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Then Spy leaned in again for another kiss.

“ _Bloody fuckin’ hell!_ ” Sniper yelled.

Spy clamped a hand over Sniper’s mouth and he bit down on it reflexively.

The Spy had slid his other hand back in, but past the Sniper’s underwear instead of just his pants.

“How long has it been since you last got yourself off?” Spy asked, pleasantly surprised at his reaction.

“Not _long_. I-I mean... a few days, maybe...” Sniper replied, biting his lip.

Spy looked up from the Sniper’s crotch, making eye contact and raising an eyebrow.

“Just last night,” Sniper admitted.

“That is not very long ago,” Spy said.

“I know,” Sniper mumbled.

“It must be hard for you in battle when you have to do it every night to help you control yourself,” Spy said.

“It’s not usually this bad!” Sniper replied, indignant.

Spy laughed, rubbing at Sniper’s length with his thumb in an attempt to extricate a moan from him. He wished that he’d taken his gloves off beforehand.

“The Spy,” Sniper reminded.

“Mmm, good point. I should get the door,” Spy said, removing his hand for good.

He reached for his clothes on the pile, reluctant to put everything back on.

More knocking.

“Shit, just get the door, mate,” Sniper said, trying to work his zipper.

“Are you-” Spy began. He looked down, and had to suppress the urge to laugh.

“It’s stuck,” Sniper snapped.

“I will get the door,” Spy said, yanking his suit jacket on and buttoning it up with ease.

“Shut it,” Sniper grumbled as the Spy started to snicker at his predicament.

“Hide my waistcoat,” Spy commanded as he headed for the door.

The Sniper nodded, and took it.

“ _Merde_ \- salut!” Spy said. The RED Spy had already entered.

 _Does he suspect anything?_ BLU Spy wondered.

“You two are terrible at packing up your things to get the door,” RED Spy said, studying the BLU, amused.

BLU Spy opened his mouth to reply, but his counterpart cut him off.

“It was just me,” RED Spy said, answering an unasked question. “The library is very rarely used, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he added, looking around. Unseen dust motes floated around in the air.

“I trust you’ve found whatever you were looking for? And haven’t lost the Sniper?” RED Spy asked.

“Oui. I was not looking for anything in particular, but I would like to come back to better survey your collection. And the Sniper was just taking a nap,” BLU Spy said.

RED Spy laughed. “In the shelves? Is it really better there than on the chairs?”

“I suppose so. Ask him yourself,” BLU Spy replied, shrugging.

“That can wait. You two should come back now. I’m almost done with the machine, and I believe I can give you your disguise kit back,” RED Spy said.

“Ah, bon,” BLU said, nodding.

“Lawrence!” RED Spy called. “He’s not still asleep, is he?”

“He may be,” BLU Spy replied, smiling apologetically.

“I’m here, I’m getting up,” Sniper called. The BLU Spy was impressed at how he made himself sound so tired. As if he’d actually just gotten up from a nap.

When the three had regrouped, the RED Spy nodded. As an afterthought before they exited, he handed his Cloak and Dagger to the Sniper.

“Why-” Sniper began, but his teammate cut him off.

“You never visit the library,” RED Spy replied.

Sniper strapped it on, and followed the two Spies out.


	9. A Little Heart to Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes the title comes from the TF2 OST song. Among my personal favourites from the OST would be the theme song and MEDIC! Nobody is surprised whatsoever.

“You can go on without us so we can recharge our cloaks. We will knock when we get to the room,” BLU Spy said quietly, hoping that the RED Spy could hear him.

Without a sign of whether or not he’d caught the words, RED Spy walked on through the hallways as the two cloaked mercs stood still so their watches could recharge.

"Ah, Konrad,” RED Spy said, right around the corner.

The BLU Spy’s head jerked up, but he didn’t back away from the conversation.

“Don’t call me zhat,” the RED Medic replied.

“We’re all teammates here,” RED Spy said.

“If you’re going to be like zhat, why do you have to go on and on about ‘professionalism’?” the Medic countered.

“That isn’t me,” Spy reminded him.

The RED Sniper huffed in indignance, receiving a warning jab from the BLU Spy in his ribs.

“Shh,” BLU Spy whispered. But he was trying not to laugh.

“Zhat’s not zhe point. I don’t have time to argue vizh you now; I have a patient to tend to,” Medic said.

“Then go tend to him,” RED Spy said.

“I vill. He’s asleep now, but I came out to look for you,” Medic said, his voice lowering.

BLU Spy rolled his eyes. He was quite sure that the ‘patient’ was the RED Scout, and also sure that he was _not_ asleep.

“You found me. What do you need?” RED Spy asked.

“I zhink zhere’s a Spy in zhe base,” Medic said, so quietly that the BLU Spy and the Sniper had to lean in past the corner to hear.

“That’s not funny,” RED Spy said drily.

“Not you,” Medic snapped, not in the mood to humour his teammate.

“You know the other team isn’t allowed to infiltrate our base after hours. In fact, they shouldn’t be getting into our main base at all. It’s not on the battlefield,” Spy said, his tone clearly patronizing.

“Zhey vould do it anyvay. I don’t trust zhe BLU Spy,” Medic said, irritated.

At that, the BLU Spy wanted to walk right up to the Medic and stab him.

“Do you trust me?” RED Spy asked, smiling.

The Medic hesitated. “Forget zhis. I can find him myself, Adrien-Louis,” he said.

“I can help you,” Spy insisted.

“You are being insufferable,” the Medic said.

“Maybe so, but you have a patient to tend to. So get going. I think I can handle my own counterpart better than you. After all, _you’re_ the one he’d be looking for if he was in here, Konrad,” Spy said.

The Medic scowled. He couldn’t deny it; the BLU Spy’s kill count on him in particular had skyrocketed after the incident with keeping Spy’s severed head alive in the medical office fridge. Medic didn’t like to admit it, but whenever the enemy Spy had a domination on him, it got to him, knowing that he was being targeted.

“Fine. I’ll look for you later,” Medic said.

“Don’t bother,” Spy replied, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll find you.”

The Medic nodded, and headed back for his office.

“Zhat was close,” BLU Spy whispered, feeling the Sniper’s heat to his side. He backed up from the corner.

For a moment, their cloaks flickered and their hands met in a tight, frantic squeeze.

“Cher,” Spy whispered as he walked down the hallway, his steps quick and light.

“Yeah?” Sniper asked, right behind him.

“Je t’aime,” Spy said.

Sniper paused.

“..What?” he asked, not bothering with a dignified-sounding response.

“Je t’aime,” Spy repeated.

“I don’t think I need to remind you that I don’t speak French, and that I need a translation,” Sniper mumbled.

The Spy thought about it for a moment. He pressed his back to the wall and peeked around another corner. Sniper bumped into him, cursing softly.

“A translation?” Spy mused.

“Yeah,” Sniper whispered, right beside him, his voice sending shivers down Spy’s spine.

Spy thought about it some more. “Fuck me,” he said, slipping around the corner.

The Sniper cursed again, following him.

“Now that’s definitely not what you said,” Sniper replied.

“It is,” Spy insisted, even though it wasn’t.

“Wait, I have to knock,” Sniper reminded as they reached the door to the meeting room.

The Spy moved out of the way so the Sniper could perform the odd little secret knock.

Within moments, the door was open, and the pair stepped in.

“How was the library?” RED Spy asked, shutting the door.

“Surprisingly nice,” BLU Spy replied, taking his seat.

“Surprisingly,” RED Spy repeated, raising an eyebrow.

The BLU was about to respond when he noticed Medic beside him, visibly shaking.

“Isaak?” he asked, concerned, completely forgetting how he’d been ignoring his friend earlier.

No response.

“What happened?” Spy demanded, glaring at his RED counterpart.

“Your Medic makes a surprisingly good Spy,” he replied, avoiding the question.

“Tell me what happened. Now,” BLU Spy snarled, standing.

“He was helping as a distraction on his way to the bathroom,” RED Spy said, all calmness.

“Who saw him?” the BLU asked.

RED Spy shook his head.

“We went in different directions,” he replied.

“ _I swear to fucking god,_ if you-” BLU Spy began.

“I’m fine, Xavier,” Medic said softly, resting a hand on his teammate’s arm.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the group.

“Fine,” BLU Spy exhaled.

“It’s getting late,” RED Spy said.

“We should get going,” Medic said, getting up.

BLU Spy nodded, and the two headed out. Sniper handed the Medic the invisibility watch, then made eye contact with the Spy.

“Soon,” BLU Spy promised. “We’ll be back soon.”

The RED Spy nodded at the words, but his attention was on the device he’d been tinkering with.

With the RED Spy and Medic looking away, there were a few seconds where the BLU Spy and Sniper weren’t being watched. Against their more rational thoughts, they leaned into each other for a peck on the lips before breaking away for good.

The BLU Spy sighed inwardly, wishing he could savour his Sniper forever.

 _Love always has a price,_ he thought ruefully.

 _But that is why you should not love at all,_ his mind scolded him.

The Spy closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sound of the Medic’s footsteps in front of him as they left RED base.

Blocking out the thoughts wouldn’t remove the ache in his chest. He wanted to be back in the Sniper’s arms, entangled in a limbo that wasn’t quite anywhere. A little bit of time and space all to their own, feeling not the pressure of holding an enemy, nor being in the wrong base. Just each other’s limbs and breaths and words, gentle and heated.

“I’m sorry.”

BLU Spy looked up, startled.

“Pardon?” he asked before having completely processed the words in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” Medic said again. “About not telling you everyzhing I knew. I should’ve done so in zhe first place, and I’m sorry.”

“You do not have to apologize,” Spy replied.

The two got into the Medic’s car. The familiarity of it reassured them after everything that had happened, and it was as if that familiarity alone smoothed everything out.

“I had to say somezhing. After all, you’re my friend. As for vhat happened earlier, before you need to ask... I had a bit of a run-in vizh zhe RED Scout. I vas disguised as zhe RED Medic, as zhe Spy vasn’t convinced zhat I vould be able to act like anybody else convincingly. All I needed to do vas use zhe godforsaken restroom. He looked like he’d been drugged. He said zhings to me zhat I do not vish to repeat, und zhat is all,” Medic said, shivering as he pulled onto the road.

“You have to be joking,” Spy said, but he was thinking about Medic’s words. Drugged? That would explain his odd behaviour. Was the RED Medic also knowledged in dentistry? Did he just have a penchant for using vast amounts of numbing substances? The latter wasn’t unlikely.

“I’m not joking,” Medic replied, bringing Spy back to the present.

“I am not surprised that the RED Scout is more than a questionable person,” Spy said, containing a laugh as he recalled the moaning from earlier.

“It wasn’t pleasant,” Medic sighed, shaking his head.

Spy was muffling his amusement into his gloved palm. He couldn’t even really imagine the Scout’s advances on the Medic, who was both asexual and aromantic and wouldn’t have found it particularly enjoyable. Of course, Medic enjoyed teasing Spy about his previous partners, but that was it for how much the doctor meddled in such affairs.

He considered telling Medic about the Sniper... And banished the thought immediately. He still wasn’t completely sure how to sort out his feelings for the marksman, and it was terrible. Both of them got caught up in the heat of the moment, more than once, and one thing just led to another and...

Spy shook his head.

The action didn’t go unnoticed by the Medic.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Just tired,” Spy mumbled. It wasn’t untrue.

“It is getting late,” Medic said. “We’re almost home, zhen you can sleep.”

“Bon,” Spy said. He realized he’d said ‘good’ in French, but before he went to correct himself, remembered that Medic actually understood conversational French and it didn’t actually matter. He really was tired.

“I have somezhing to give you, first,” Medic said, rooting around in his pocket. He handed Spy a little rectangle of a device.

“What is... is this some kind of disguise kit? There’s only one button. Is the front covered in... glass?” Spy asked.

“It’s a phone,” Medic replied, smiling somewhat.

Spy paused, then looked up. He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“No, I do not think so,” he replied flatly.

“It is,” Medic insisted. “It’s a portable version of a phone, und I don’t know why zhe Engineers haven’t bozhered vizh zhem yet. Ve all have a vay to communicate vizh each ozher during battle, but zhis is a little more zhan our little earpieces. You press zhis button to turn it on, und at zhe moment it can only take and receive calls or text messages. It’s very simple to use.”

“Why are you giving it to me, though?”

“Zhe RED Spy gave it to me. He said to expect a very important call vizhin zhe veek as he studies respawn as much as possible, und does vhatever it is he needs to do.”

“But then you should keep it. He expects you to be the one to pick it up, does he not?”

“Ja, but... I zhink it vould be better in your hands. If he happened to call me during battle, how vould I be able to pick up? You vould find it much easier to do so.  
I only warn you zhat it needs to be fixed, because vhen you pick up a call, zhe phone shoots up a light. It’s supposed to be zhe emergency flare, und zhe RED Spy’s is broken in zhe same vay, so be careful about that.”

Spy nodded slowly, and tucked the phone into his pocket. A wave of warmth surged through him. It felt nice to be trusted, and it was making him emotional. Before he could change the topic, his teammate revved the engine and spoke.

“So,” Medic began, "how vas zhe library? You vere very excited to go take a look at it.”

“It was dusty, but nice,” Spy replied.

“Und I trust zhe Sniper didn’t bozher you? I suppose not; if he did, he would be in respawn right now,” Medic said, chuckling.

“He took a nap until zhe RED Spy came to fetch us,” Spy said, closing his eyes.

 _Should I really be lying to Isaak?_ he thought.

His inner war of morals wasn’t necessary; it was evident that the Medic had already seen right through him.

“Und zhat vas all?” he asked.

“No,” Spy admitted softly. “Had we more time, the RED Spy would have found us rutting like animals on the floor.”

“You’re joking,” Medic replied, eyes wide.

“I am not joking,” Spy said, repeating Medic’s words from earlier as the events replayed in his head.

“Und zhis has been going on for how long?” Medic asked.

“About a week. I have not exactly been counting,” Spy said.

“So he’s part of vhy you keep coming to zhe RED base,” Medic said, smiling.

“...Oui,” Spy replied, reddening.

“I should’ve known,” Medic said.

“I try to keep my romantic affairs to myself,” Spy said.

“Ja, zhat’s true, but I’d zhink zhat I’d be able to read you better,” Medic said, giving a shake of his head.

“Ve’re home. Try and get some rest, Xavier,” Medic said, parking in the back lot.

Spy nodded, not questioning why Medic called the base their home again when it was just base. He headed straight for his room. Although he was filled with weariness, thinking about the Sniper again put a spring in his step, as silly as it felt.

By the time he was actually asleep, he’d already continued the earlier events in the library several times in his head. They were delicious fantasies he aimed to actually act upon as soon as possible.

 

Morning was a welcome respite from his relentless dreams. The Spy had woken up exhausted and undeniably horny. He straightened his sheets with relative difficulty, trying to ignore his hard-on.

 _Deep breaths,_ he thought. _Deep breaths. Count to ten. Count to twenty. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

Spy sighed, wishing that he was in the motel room again instead of in his room at BLU base. Ironically, his base room didn’t feel as familiar, though going to the motel meant having to drive back to base sooner or later, but at least he had a washroom right by his room.

He glanced at his clock. Eleven in the morning. It was later than he usually got up, even on a battleless Sunday morning.There was still no rush to get ready for the day.

He wrapped his robe around his pyjamas, grabbed his towel, and selected a fresh change of clothes.

Spy truly did not want to shower in base. He had to admit that first and foremost, he didn’t want anyone to see him without his clothes on, or worse, without his balaclava on. He also absolutely did _not_ want to see any of his teammates naked. The very possibility of such a confrontation was unpleasant. Those shower-related facts he’d reviewed and confirmed many times on his own.

A stray thought in his head popped up before he could smother it. Did the two Snipers look similar underneath their clothes? Probably, but...

The Spy bit his lip, blushing. Certainly, it would make sense if they did, but until he saw for himself, he couldn’t say...

“ _Arrêtes,_ ” he hissed. Out loud. Thankfully, the hallway was empty, and nobody heard him tell himself to stop, in French. As if he’d been doing anything outwardly odd to stop doing in the first place.

Nobody was in the showers. Not entirely surprising, as most of the other mercs preferred to take showers in the evening, or worse, at annoying times when everyone else was trying to sleep.

He was tempted to check all of the stalls, even though he didn’t hear any running water nor any other telltale noises of a teammates’ presence. Spy sighed; that would be silly. It was just a shower, after all.

Instead of checking every stall, he made a beeline for the very back, and stripped as quickly as possible. He considered adding his clothes to the laundry pile later, but he saw no reason to trust any of his teammates with his work uniform, even if he had several near-identical outfits.

Of course, such worries could easily be eliminated if he was on laundry duty for the night, but he was excellent at getting out of doing the chores, and didn’t have to worry about most of them for the next week or so.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to work nor was he particularly lazy - he just didn’t want to work with the other mercs. Medic was an exception until one had to experience folding clothes with him. And God forbid anyone loaded the dishwasher wrong in his line of sight.

Spy just took his clothes into town for the laundromat or dry cleaners to worry about.

It occurred to him that he could take Sniper into town, too. Not the most romantic place for a date, but their options _were_ pretty limited.

The little café wouldn’t be too bad. The small Italian restaurant could do for dinner. And if they ever went out for a little weekend getaway, the Spy knew exactly where to find the closest diner...

He frowned to himself. Would they ever even get the chance? Even a small trip would demand at least a full day from both of them. Although the two left their respective team bases often enough, it would be too big a risk for them to take, wouldn’t it? But he wanted, so bad, to go out with the Sniper. It was hard to admit to himself, even mentally, but he did.

Spy winced at the sudden throb of pain in his skin. It came from his chest. A reopened wound from the Sniper's shiv, no less. He rinsed the soap off of his body, not wanting to irritate it further.

He could ask Medic to patch it up later. But now, he was still alone with his thoughts of himself and his Sniper.

The Spy wanted to visit the marksman sometime. Soon. Even if they wouldn’t be able to get out for Sunday, it’d be nice to spend some time together.

Despite the pain on the surface of his body, the thought of seeing the Sniper again made him happier. He toweled himself and got his clothes on. Much faster than truly necessary, as there was still nobody coming into the showers.

Maybe he could even bring a gift. Spy was smiling by the time he got to the medical office, and Medic was surprised to see him in such a joyful state.

“Come in,” Medic said.

“I reopened one of my wounds,” Spy replied instead of greeting his friend.

Medic wasn’t even fazed, despite the near-maniacal smile on Spy’s face. “Examination table. Sit,” he said, patting the table with a gloved hand.

“How long have you been awake?” Spy asked.

“Since eight. I got up an hour later today, unfortunately,” Medic said.

"Was anyone even visiting you before eight?” Spy laughed. His friend was one of the few individuals he knew who valued their early morning wake ups.

“No, but you know I like getting up early,” Medic replied, glowing with pride.

“Oui,” Spy said, nodding. Nothing more needed to be said.

“So vhy else are you here?” Medic asked, raising an eyebrow as he fiddled with his medigun.

“I want to visit the Sniper,” Spy replied simply.

“Today?”

“Oui.”

“Don’t stay out too late.”

Spy rolled his eyes. “I am an adult, Isaak. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” he said.

“Ja, but you reopened your own wound,” Medic pointed out.

“That is not relevant to the fact that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself otherwise,” Spy scoffed, mildly offended.

Medic hefted his medigun and hooked it up to its perch hanging from the ceiling.

“Just stay safe,” he said, solemn as he pulled the handle.

Spy stretched, relishing the feel of the medigun’s beam on him.

“Merci,” he said.

“Bitte,” Medic replied, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'small Italian restaurant' is a gentle reference to Saizeriya, a Japanese chain of Italian restaurants. Go figure. Visited one when I was in Hong Kong. Amazing prices, amazing food. Definitely check it out if you ever have the chance - you won't regret it.


	10. Not Safe For Work

Spy had gone over his outfit several times before he was satisfied with it. He was still in a suit, as he got dressed up regardless of where he was going, but it wasn’t his work uniform.

It was also visibly blue-tinted. Most of his clothes were. Actually, most of the mercs’ clothes were team-coloured some way or another. It did make Spy wish he had a bigger colour variety, even if their wardrobes were paid for by their respective employers rather than from their own pockets.

He smoothed the suit jacket for the twentieth time in an hour, feeling through his gloves and through the fabric his weapons He was carrying quite a few - definitely more than he was permitted to in battle.

His Inviswatch for his trip to the RED base and back, because his Cloak and Dagger was acting strange. The Dead Ringer, simply because it was the only one of his invisibility watches that could tell the time, so far, thanks to the Engineer’s tinkering. He’d yet to polish it, but there was more reason to take it with him than not.

Several knives, including the grey floral one he was so fond of. They were delicately arranged on the inside of his suit, strapped to his thigh garter, and elsewhere on his person. Sometimes Spy actually forgot where all of his knives were - not that he’d admit it. Forgetting had, on more than one occasion, resulted in stabs in his skin upon making a poorly planned movement.

He didn’t bring his Ambassador. Spy figured Sniper wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to see the weapon that he'd fought with days ago. But Spy wasn’t going to go without a gun; he was too used to the company of one. He’d chosen his L’Étranger instead, for the cloak boost it offered, even off the battlefield.

With his trusty disguise kit, he was all set to go out. And it was only one thirty in the afternoon.

On more than one occasion, prior to visits to town for supply pick up, Medic had told him that he took too long to get ready. Also that that was the reason only the Medic and Engineer went out with him to town, instead of all of the BLU team in their customary party. It wasn't because they didn’t trust him enough to go out with him, as Spy was so convinced, even though most of them probably didn’t, anyway.

The Spy didn’t care. He _needed_ his prep time. He had to go over his things several times, adjust his outfit, weapon placement, weapon choices. Everything needed to be accounted for. He absolutely hated being caught off guard or being unprepared. Prepare he must.

When he was finally satisfied with his bodily weapon setup, he headed out.

It had been a few days since Spy had driven his car, and he almost missed it. As usual, he looked through it for any suspicious items. Nothing stood out, so the Spy got in.

It was reassuring to be in his car. It was like a mobile home to him, in a way. Not like the Snipers’ vans, but it was still a little pocket of space all to himself. And it was an excellent drive.

Halfway to the RED base, he remembered that he’d intended to give the Sniper a gift. In his haste, Spy had forgotten. He realized he didn’t have much _to_ give in the first place. At least, nothing that wasn’t a weapon or article of clothing that Sniper probably wouldn’t wear anyway. Nor fit, for that matter.

Spy recalled the time the BLUs had needed to be in formal dress for a very important meeting. It had been quite simple for himself and the Medic, as their daily uniforms were already close to formalwear.

The BLU Sniper had arrived in his work uniform without the vest. He’d attempted to put on a tie, but it looked more like an awkward noose, the way he’d been fidgeting with it.

He’d also ignored Medic’s gentle suggestions to remove his visible piercings, just for the day.

BLU Sniper didn’t really listen to anybody.

The Spy smiled to himself. His RED Sniper was no doormat, but Spy thought he could be quite charming in his bashfulness. Of course, Sniper wasn’t exactly the shyest individual. He had those moments, sure, but... it had been clear to both the Spy and the Sniper who was on top, so to speak.

Spy parked his car where Medic had parked his before, trusting its location. He cloaked, and made his way to RED base. When he glanced back, he could really appreciate the little parking spot. Next time, he’d have to be more careful. His car, though well hidden to RED’s cameras even in the daylight, was too conspicuous for his liking. He also noted to himself he’d have to steal another set of license plates to keep things interesting.

The Sniper’s van was on the other side of base, opposite to where Spy’s car was. He wondered why Sniper parked it so far from the road. Wouldn’t it be easier to leave it on the other side of RED base, where the road was easily accessible? Or did the Sniper just like the other side more? It was quite baffling. Actually, he realized _both_ the Snipers parked in the same spots relative to their respective bases, and nobody really knew why, it seemed.

When Spy got to the van, he was poised to knock. Butterflies danced inside of him.

 _Calm down... Have you not done this before?_ he thought to himself.

The Spy tried to knock again, but stopped himself. Then he actually knocked on the door, trying to replicate the RED Sniper and Spy’s odd knocking pattern. He fumbled, but hoped that his attempt would suffice.

The door unlocked with a soft click. Tentatively, Spy opened it. His cloak was running out of energy, and he needed to get in before the cameras found him. Assuming the RED base housed outdoor cameras, which it probably did. The RED Spy had acted like it did.

Spy could feel his cloak fading, so he went ahead and opened the door. Before he could react, an arm wrapped around his waist and brought him away from the entrance. 

“You came,” Sniper said softly.

“Of course I did,” Spy replied as he was pulled into an embrace.

“I missed you. I didn’t think you’d actually visit,” Sniper admitted.

“Why not?”

“Weekend day, isn’t it? Good time for a long nap.”

“I would much rather nap with you, cher.”

“C’mere.”

Sniper’s bed wasn’t big, but the two fit on it well enough in their entangled state.

“Hot day, isn’t it?” Sniper asked.

“Oui. I am glad my car has air conditioning. How do you keep your van cool?”

“Fans. Vent system. Dunno how it works, just that it does, most of the time.”

Spy smiled, and it made the Sniper smile, too. The marksman was caught off guard by the hungry glint in Spy’s eyes followed by his hands pulling at Sniper’s clothes.

“I did not come here just to visit you. I came here to finish what we started in the library,” Spy said, quietly but firmly.

The Sniper laughed as the Spy sat up on his lap to unbutton his red shirt and enjoyed his warmth. 

“Well I _have_ been waiting for you,” Sniper said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Feels like I do that a lot.”

“In battle, maybe. You wait for my knife.”

“I’m waiting for your knife now, too, so hurry it up.”

Spy blushed at the blatant innuendo as he worked his way up Sniper’s shirt. The Sniper smiled, pleased. He cupped his hands around Spy’s face, and gave him a tender kiss.

“You ever gonna show me what you look like?” Sniper asked, rubbing a thumb along the edge of Spy’s balaclava.

“Maybe.”

“It’d be nice to know who I’m in bed with, spook.”

“Maybe."

“You’re a stubborn one, aren’tcha?” Sniper laughed.

“Perhaps, but I have an identity to keep secret, you know?”

“You can trust me.”

“That is not the first time I have heard that exact phrase from one of my lovers.”

“So I’m your lover now?”

“I... I did not...” Spy stammered. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he could call the Sniper his lover. He hadn’t really thought of it that way until right that moment.

“Soon,” Sniper promised coyly.

Spy bit his lip, partially because he was actually feeling shy, but partially just for appearance’s sake. As if he needed to give the Sniper another reason to make a move on him. The placement of Spy’s gloved hands undoing his clothes was invitation enough.

“Did you come prepared?” Spy asked.

“ _You_ kind of dropped in unannounced, so I don’t know what you’re saying about _me_ coming prepared. But to answer your question, this is the same vest I was wearing that other day,” Sniper said. A subtle but clear hint.   
Spy felt around the Sniper’s inner vest pockets until he was able to retrieve the small cloth-wrapped bundle. He could feel Sniper’s pounding heartbeat against his hands.

“Nervous?” Spy asked, stroking the side of Sniper’s cheek.

“Nah. It’s just that its been a while for me, and I, er, hope I’m good enough for you,” Sniper replied with a small cough.

Spy couldn’t help but smile. “You will be fine, cher. I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah... hope so,” Sniper mumbled.

Then he stopped talking, and looked over the Spy for a moment.

"You have blue eyes,” Sniper said.

“Oui. I am surprised you did not notice sooner,” Spy replied.

“Nah, I did. It’s just that I never really got a good look ‘til now,” Sniper murmured, rubbing his thumb along Spy’s cheek in a reciprocal gesture. 

“They’re nice. Really. I could watch you forever, I think,” Sniper added, blushing.

The Spy laughed lightly, and kissed him.

“Your words are not usually so sweet like this,” Spy said.

“Guess not; I’m not really good with compliments,” Sniper said.

“Je t’adore. Je veux te faire,” Spy whispered, kissing the Sniper’s neck.

“I still don’t know any French, spook,” the Sniper said, holding the Spy by the waist.

“You will learn,” Spy promised. He paused, and the Sniper felt breathing against his collarbone.

“Let me see your eyes,” Spy said, pulling back and reaching for the Sniper’s aviators.

Sniper tensed, but he didn’t stop the Spy from removing his glasses.

Spy studied him in curiosity, without a word.

“So...?” Sniper ventured.

“I always thought your eyes were blue, too. Perhaps it was because of the lighting?” Spy said. "They are grey, like clouds.”

The Sniper leaned back, scratching his head.

“M’sorry,” he said, not sure how to respond.

“Do not be sorry, cher. They are lovely,” Spy said, bringing his hands to the Sniper’s cheek and pulling him in for a lingering kiss.

“I wish you did not keep them covered up all day,” Spy added.

“I need my glasses to see,” Sniper said, his blush worsening.

“Mon dieu, that is adorable,” Spy said, his eyes wide.

“What?! How?” Sniper demanded.

“You are a sharpshooter. You rely on your vision. Yet you wear prescribed sunglasses - indoors _and_ out,” Spy said, covering his grin with a hand.

“Shut it,” Sniper muttered, face red as his fingers clenched around the Spy’s suit jacket.

“I am sorry, mon cher. It is the truth,” Spy said, pecking Sniper’s cheek.

“Yeah, well...” Sniper began. He didn’t have anything to lead up to it, so he just slid a hand up Spy’s dress shirt, running his fingers along his skin, and extracting a perfect startled noise from the Spy.

“Do that again,” Sniper said, grinning.

“Non!” Spy exclaimed in pure and very real embarrassment, covering his mouth with both hands.

“You’re cute,” Sniper said, making the Spy blush more.

“Shush,” Spy grumbled because he had no sly, seductive response at hand. He just wasn’t one to take such casual compliments.

“I don’t think it’s ever taken me this long to strip a partner,” Sniper noted. 

“Then I can hurry it up,” Spy said, leaning in for a kiss.

Sniper pecked his lips, then pressed a hand against Spy’s hip to turn him over on the bed.

“Do you like being on top?” Spy asked smoothly, allowing himself to be flipped.

“Yeah. Surprised?” Sniper replied, cocking his head.

“Non, not at all. Did we not discuss this last time?” Spy asked, not adding how much he’d thought about their little power dynamic.

“For a little, before we were interrupted.”

“We will not be disturbed today.”

“I’d hope not. Half my team probably thinks I’ve gone camping, even though I had dinner here last night.”

“How sweet of them.”

“Aren’t they?”

Then the two dissolved into a fit of giggles. Two grown men trying to take each other's clothes off, giggling in bed together.

Before Spy could reply, Sniper grabbed his hip again and grinded. Spy cried out in as much surprise as pleasure.

“Haven’t got all day,” Sniper reminded him.

Spy nodded tersely, clinging to the back of Sniper’s neck.

“Do with me what you will,” he whispered.

“You always this submissive?” Sniper growled, yanking his pants off.

“Nnh- non, not _always_...” Spy said.

“Just for me, then?” Sniper asked, grinding again.

“Ah - fuck! Oui. _Fuck!_ Do you like it?” Spy struggled to reply through the assault on his groin.

“You have no idea,” Sniper said. He used a finger to roll Spy’s balaclava up so he could bite his neck.

“You ever take it off?” Sniper asked. It was clear he was still curious about Spy's face.

“Sometimes... But only when I am alone, and sure that I am not being watched,” Spy murmured.

“Would you? For me?”

“...Right _now?_ ”

“Uh. Yeah, if you want.”

“Cher...”

“You don’t have to. I mean, if you don’t feel like it.”

“I do not know. It has been a while since I have done so in the presence of someone else.”

“Then it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, wait. Can you pull the blinds down all the way?”

“Sure. Um, wait here.”

Sniper got up, awkwardly managing to make his way to the windows despite the obstruction in his unzipped pants. The blinds for the windows with a view of the bed were already down most of the way, but he went and pulled all of them down anyway. The van darkened considerably.

Spy was sitting up on the bed, shifting about because of his own hard-on.

“Take a seat,” the Spy said, smiling up at the Sniper despite his nervousness.

“You don’t have to do this. Honest. I’m not gonna force you,” Sniper said, sitting down beside him.

“I do not want to keep you in the dark about my appearance forever, cher,” Spy replied, kissing his lover’s cheek.

Then they just stared at each other, silent in the near-darkness of the van. They felt each other’s heat, both wanting to draw closer and yet remaining still so as not to break apart the fragility of the moment held in muted limbo.

It was Spy who moved first. He glanced down, took the Sniper’s hand, and squeezed it not unlike the way they’d held each other sneaking around in the RED base.

With far more care than needed, the Sniper brought his hands to the Spy’s neck and started to lift his balaclava off.

It didn’t really seem like it was that big of a deal, but it was obvious that it was a big deal. Their racing hearts said it all.

“You do not need to treat me so delicately,” Spy said with a shaky laugh.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sniper replied, snapping out of his faint reverie.

He wasn’t actually sure how the thing worked, when it came to taking it off properly. But his fingers did not betray him, and with a bit of pulling, he was holding the mask in his hands.

The Sniper wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Tan lines. Scars. Many scars, in fact. Clear signs of tiredness from work. Somewhat wavy black hair, greying. He wasn’t that surprised, but he _was_ satisfied.

“Messed up your hair,” Sniper said apologetically.

“It always does this when I take off the balaclava,” Spy said.

Sniper leaned in, and planted kisses on the Spy’s cheeks, forehead, the top of his head where his messed up hair was.

“You look fine. Better than fine... Really nice, actually. Better than I do,” Sniper said.

“Do not underestimate yourself, cher... I appreciate it,” Spy murmured, relaxing into the Sniper and closing his eyes.

But the Sniper had other plans. He grabbed Spy by the hip yet again and pressed him down onto the bed.

“Oh, no. You can nap _after_ we finish what we started,” he said.

“So demanding,” Spy sighed dramatically, trailing his fingers up the Sniper’s bare chest. He reached for the cloth bundle again, sitting neglected on the sheets.

“I would have assumed you liked it messy,” Spy said, smiling down at what he was holding and all it implied.

“Gotta be safe, right? Even though both our Medics - I’m assuming both ‘cause they’re similar - are very _thorough_ with their examinations. ‘Sides, maybe you prefer easier clean up. Dunno how you are ‘til I have my chance with you,” Sniper replied, hands on the Spy’s waist.

Spy peered at him, raised an eyebrow, then nodded slightly. He tossed the condom on the floor. Sniper cocked his head, quizzical but undeniably aroused. 

“Sit up,” Sniper commanded. Spy sat up, resting his back against the wall.

The Sniper positioned himself in front of him, and kissed him hard. Their tongues met and parted.

“No idea how you do that, but you do,” Sniper said, voice low.

“Mm, do what, cher?” Spy asked, interlacing his fingers behind the Sniper’s neck.

“Kiss the way you do,” Sniper murmured.

Spy pulled him in again, and they kissed, long and sweet.

“Feel bad I’ve been making you wait this long,” Sniper chuckled, glancing down. He’d successfully gotten most of Spy’s clothes off, except for his gloves, tie and unbuttoned white dress shirt.

“Do not apologize. This is nice,” Spy said softly, stroking the Sniper’s face with a hand.

Sniper took his wrist, and brought his mouth to Spy’s gloved fingertips. He made eye contact, and removed the Frenchman’s gloves with his teeth. First one, then the other.

The Spy blushed, and bit his lip again, hard enough to draw blood. He’d calmed down enough to allow Sniper to remove the balaclava, but that simple act had riled him up.

He scrambled, inwardly, for something to shift his attention to something that wasn’t his erection.

Spy grabbed the cloth bundle with the lubricant and condom.

“Why not just use a square of fabric? It would be easier to wrap,” he said, only just having come to the conclusion himself.

The Sniper plucked the cloth strip from his hands, and straightened it.

“Simple,” he began, taking an end in each hand and bringing it around Spy’s head.

“Mon dieu, what are you doing?,” Spy asked, instinctively leaning back, but then relaxing. Trust. That was important. He honestly wasn’t expecting Sniper to do something malicious with a strip of cloth.

The Sniper wrapped it around, looped the ends forward, brought it around again, and tied it at the back of Spy’s head. It wasn’t too bad for a makeshift gag.

Spy mumbled something, staring at the wall with a burning, unrivalled intensity. He was very red, and he honestly hadn’t expected that at all.

“Hush, love. You’re mine to play with now,” Sniper growled into his ear.

Spy wasn’t entirely sure what that entailed, but he couldn’t deny that the marksman’s voice was starting to excite him. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Think of this as payback for what you did to me in the library,” Sniper said, running his hand up Spy’s inner thigh. He paused at the garter and the knife accompanying it. 

“You sure you didn’t come here to stab me?” Sniper asked, raising an eyebrow.

Spy shook his head, and motioned to take it off, but Sniper stopped him.

“Allow me,” he said, smiling slightly.

The Sniper removed the knife carefully, and slid the garter off even more carefully, pressing his fingers down on Spy’s thigh for a reaction.

Spy said something through his gag that may or may not have been words.

Instead of trying to decipher the mumbles, Sniper asked, “You know how to use this?” He grabbed the lube and flicked open the cap.

The Spy nodded, and took it. He squeezed out some lubricant into his palm.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Sniper chuckled.

Spy nodded again. He made eye contact with the Sniper as he brought his fingers down to his entrance. 

Muffled, exaggerated moaning came from the Spy as he penetrated himself with his fingers. 

It had been a while, but he knew what he was doing. 

"Wow," Sniper mouthed, genuinely enthralled at the little performance. 

"Should I be surprised you're willing to go all the way?" Sniper asked, pulling his pants off.

Spy shook his head, still stretching himself. 

Sniper kissed his neck, then he started sucking to leave his mark. Nobody would see it but the two of them, what with the mask and all. 

He parted Spy's legs and pumped his length, already dripping.

Spy, in turn, lubricated Sniper's cock.

Sniper growled softly, and positioned himself over Spy, who gave up his sitting position to lie down underneath. 

"Almost wish I could hear your French dirty talk, but it's my turn to talk now, isn't it?"

Spy nodded.

Sniper slid in with another growl, low and distinctly feral. 

"You look bloody gorgeous, you know? With or without the mask. I'm a lucky bloke," Sniper said, punctuating his words with slow thrusts. 

Spy clawed at his lover's back. He bucked his hips in response, wishing that Sniper would pick up the pace but lacking a way to tell him verbally. It was frustrating and yet it was exhilarating to be kept down. 

"You doing okay?" Sniper asked softly. 

Spy nodded, clawing again in desperation. Through the gag, he whined. 

"O-oh, haha," Sniper chuckled. "Gonna hope you mean what I think you do."

Sniper sped up the fucking. Spy was very thoroughly startled, as Sniper adopted a merciless pace. 

The head of his cock kept brushing against Spy's prostate, bringing him too close to the edge with no release. 

Spy resumed his desperate cat-like scratching. 

Sniper leaned over and sank his teeth into Spy's neck, making him cry out through the slipping gag. Sniper hadn't tied it very tight; it was coming off.

" _Baise-moi, s'il te plaît,_ " Spy moaned. 

"Don't know what that means, but I like the tone of your voice," Sniper grunted.

When Spy clenched around him, he couldn't last any longer. 

"Fuck!"

Spy wrapped his legs around his lover and took his load.

"Holy... you... that's gonna require some cleanup," Sniper panted.

"Oui," Spy replied breathlessly.

"Still haven't gotten you off yet," Sniper added, repositioning himself swiftly but keeping Spy where he was. 

"Do not worry about it-" Spy was cut off when Sniper ran his tongue up his cock. 

He moaned appreciatively, his hand going straight to the back of Sniper's head. Sniper was about halfway down his length when Spy came in his mouth. 

Sniper swallowed as much as he could manage, until Spy pulled him around for a kiss. 

Spy could taste himself in Sniper's hot mouth. 

"Good... you are so good to me, cher," Spy murmured between quick kisses. 

"Stay a little longer, will you? We can clean up," Sniper replied before kissing him again. 

"Oui, yes, of course."

Their lips met, soft and sweet. Then Spy pulled back, making eye contact, peering at the Sniper in the dark. 

A rush of warmth flooded him. 

"Sniper," Spy whispered.

"Yeah, love?"

Spy bit his lip out of pure nervousness. A habit he thought he'd nipped in the bud, a long time ago. 

"Je t'aime. Je t'adore," he said. 

Before Sniper could respond, undoubtedly about how he didn’t speak French, Spy bridged the gap between them and kissed him hard, possessively, passionately.


	11. Blood at Dawn

With another dawn, the start of the work week again, came a meeting hastily thrown together.

The sky was red, shot through with thick greyish streaks; clouds.

Medic had studied it for a moment, concerned as Spy started up his car.

“Are you sure you trust me to drive?” Spy asked with a covered yawn, startling him out of his stupor.

“Ja, it’s fine,” Medic replied, getting into the car.

“This is going to be a long day,” Spy muttered, twisting his key in the ignition. The chain it was attached to clattered noisily, weighed down with a multitude of other keys and oddities.

Medic shot his friend a sideways look, tempted to mention the sky.

 _You have no idea, Xavier,_ he thought, shivering slightly.

 

Getting into the RED base was no small feat. Following the various demands of the universe, things tended to just go wrong whenever possible. The entry of the BLUs was no exception.

Spy gripped his watch like a vise as he approached the automatic side door. Medic yanked him away. It was quite a feat, considering their mutual invisibility.

“Shh!” the doctor hissed as he flattened against the wall.

“Hey! Get back here you stupid bird! I didn’t get outta bed at frickin’ dawn from this!” the RED Scout yelled. He nearly crashed into the door, and likely would’ve had it not slid open just in time to let him pass.

True to his cries, a dove fluttered away, just out of his reach. Its feathers were stained, not with blood, but with a more raspberry-coloured liquid.

“Wine..?” Spy whispered, watching the Scout leap after the bird.

“Just go,” Medic mumbled, shoving him into the RED base firmly.

“What the bloody hell? Is that-” Sniper began, cut off by Spy’s gloved palm flickering blue.

“Move!” the BLUs told the RED in their way, pushing forward in the general direction of the meeting room door.

Thankfully, the Sniper moved, hurried along by the Medic and Spy. He fiddled with the door handle before letting the pair in, none too elegant as their cloaks faded.

“Good morning,” RED Spy said, suppressing a laugh.

“Guten morgen,” Medic sighed as he seated himself next to the Spy.

“The bird got out,” Sniper reported.

“We noticed,” BLU Spy said, rubbing his temples.

“Konrad’s not gonna be happy about that,” Sniper said, shooting a glance at his teammate.

“And whose fault was it that the stupid drunken, feathered thing got into my supply of alcohol?” RED Spy asked smoothly.

“Partially yours,” Sniper muttered with a scowl.

“What happened?” Medic asked.

“Lawrence and I were up early this morning, as we said we would be meeting. Konrad, true to his incomprehensible sleep schedule, was also awake. He was letting his birds out, for what reason, I cannot say-”

“For fresh air,” Sniper interjected.

“...Yes, fresh air. Of course. Though most days he has surprisingly excellent control over them, today they were all having a communal fit. They seem to have bothered his patients. One of them, I mean. Our demolitions man will not rise at dawn even if dragged out of bed or wheeled out in a gurney. He told Scout to fetch the bird that escaped the medical office, but the boy seemed to be having some trouble.”

“Much to the chagrin of yourself, Sniper,” Medic said, raising an eyebrow at the marksman.

Sniper rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Yeah, the birds’ll all come back, but he’s running around out there for it now... Poor bloke.”

“We should get down to business,” RED Spy interrupted gently.

“Oui,” BLU Spy agreed before he could continue. He turned to the RED. “Promise me you will tell him,” he said, staring his opposite down across the meeting room table.

“Tell him what?” the RED Spy asked, aghast.

“Not about the experiment, or whatever it is you are planning to do,” BLU Spy added quickly. “About you being his _father_.”

A spark of indignation in the RED Spy’s eyes flared up but died down.

“He has a right to know, damn it all, he needs to know! You cannot just go on like this, trying to save him, but, but...” BLU Spy growled, rising.

Medic rested a hand on his arm, and he reseated himself.

“You understand how much that would _complicate_ things?” RED Spy asked, trying his best to keep his voice level.

“You owe it to him,” the BLU retorted.

RED Spy took a deep breath, and settled into his seat.

“Fine,” he breathed. “Today’s match. I will look for him and tell him the truth, that he is my son.”

The Spy shut his eyes.

 _And,_ he thought to himself. _That I am very proud of him._

 

The sunlight was fighting with the cloud cover to bake the desert in heat. It seemed that the clouds would win, much to the relief of the mercs fighting underneath.

Spy spent the morning pestering the Engineer, who was making a serious effort to set up defenses for RED.

Persevering through some false starts and wrench wounds, the Spy was glad to be given something to do.

“Dang Spy...” Engineer muttered, whacking at his sentry and glancing back every so often.

He huffed loudly as he built it up, as if daring the Spy to approach him.

The Spy, of course, took up the challenge and snuck behind the man, as Spies are wont to do.

“Right behind you,” he whispered before sinking his knife into the Engineer’s back, mid-wrench swing. The grey floral one, which Spy noted he’d have to tell the Sniper all about sometime.

For the moment, though, Spy relished his domination, which was announced to all of the mercs. The added bonus of discouraging the Engineer to set up anywhere that Spy could easily reach him was excellent, and it’d likely persist for the next few hour of work. If the BLUs could win most of the rounds in the afternoon, then the day would be theirs.

He had a pleasant lunch with Medic, who cooked impressively good Scandinavian food. They didn’t talk about the business they were entangled in, nor did they speak about the conspicuous absence of the RED Spy.

They made their way to BLU respawn together as Spy felt the weight of the phone in his suit pocket, providing a slight but awkward bit of bulk on him.

“You have had it the whole time,” Spy realized softly.

“Vhat?” Medic asked.

“The phone... I have noticed you poking around in your pockets all the time, before you gave it to me.”

“Mm. Ja, it is distracting in my hands, and you know you can put it to better use.”

“I hope so,” Spy murmured, peeking out respawn as the countdown began.

Medic just nodded in response before pulling out his medigun to direct it at a suitable meat shield for the round.

Before long, it was clear that the BLUs were winning again, pushing yet another one of their seemingly limitless supply of large bomb carts towards the REDs.

By the time it was the last round of the day, Spy was _exhausted_. It wasn’t often that he tired so soon, but going several rounds in Sniper’s van, passing out, then having to rouse himself at dawn didn’t help his energy level.

 _One round left,_ he told himself. _I can make it through one more round._

Spy was cloaked as he left spawn, content to weave around the map until reaching a chokepoint where he could stab someone.

Though the battle, and occasionally Sniper, commanded his thoughts, he knew there was more to worry about... Where was his team’s Scout? Spy wasn’t exactly eager to let him run out to the front lines and get himself killed again. He was still holding to his promise of keeping his counterpart’s son safe before all of the respawn issues were finally fixed.

A cry tore its way out of his throat before he realized what was happening. Only after he registered the very distinct scent of rubbing alcohol did Spy notice the enemy Medic firing his Blutsauger at him.

He cloaked and slipped away, shaking too much to even think about attempting a stab. Spy tried to refocus. He felt the obligation to locate the BLU Scout, to check on him at least once during the battle.

Fortunately, the Scout was not on the front lines, and was replenishing his ammo and health supply in one of the battlefield’s many rooms. He was wounded, but not too badly. Only a couple of bullet holes, and none of them appeared to be over vital organs.

“Darryl,” Spy said, tapping the Scout on the shoulder and trying not to think about the smell of rubbing alcohol mixed with blood.

“What?” the Scout asked, visibly annoyed that the Spy had used his real name.

“How is your father doing?” Spy asked with care before immediately regretting his choice of words. He resisted the urge to groan in frustration as the blood-spattered visage of the RED Medic refused to leave his mind until he forcefully replaced it with happier images, of the Sniper. But the thing about the RED Spy was that Spy needed to know, since he didn’t have the time to find the man himself. He could be anywhere on the battlefield, if he was even on the battlefield, and Spy had yet to encounter him.

“My...? Low freakin’ blow, dude. I don’t _know_ who he is, alright? I thought you were aware of that already. You should be, if you know my name,” Scout snapped, his mood worsening.

 _Mon dieu,_ Spy thought, blinking in surprise. _He hasn’t told Scout yet? He_ promised _he was going to. Did he try, only to have Scout kill him? Or is he still avoiding this situation? The cart is almost there, and still, he does not show his face..._

“The RED Spy. He is your father, oui?” the Spy said, trying to sound calm. The novelty of ticking Scout off had worn away, and now he was in it for good. There was no backtracking now.

“What?! Okay, first of all, you need to step outta my family business. Second of all, fuck off. That’s not funny,” Scout growled.

“Why would I lie to you? What do I have to gain?” Spy asked. He thought he probably sounded like he pitied the boy in about a thousand different ways, and it was just making Scout angrier, because he did.

“I don’t freakin’ know! Some secret Spy shit, probably! Just leave me alone, and I’ll consider not bashin’ your damn head in,” Scout retorted.

“It is the truth,” Spy insisted. If the boy’s own father wouldn’t tell him, then damn it, _he_ would.

“Fuckin’ _how?!_ ” Scout yelled, more distressed than angry.

Spy considered telling him. If he made it quick, then why not.

“He and your mother met each other over twenty years ago. Even though he did not raise you, surely you recognize him in some way,” Spy said.

“I can’t freakin’ believe it. She would never... that backstabbing fuck...” Scout whispered, staring at the Spy, frustrated and hurt.

“You have his eyes,” Spy said quietly, looking down, guilt finally settling upon him.

His words changed something in the Scout’s expression, and the boy started to look like he wanted to cry.

“That’s what Ma always...” he began. But then he shook his head, and ran off without another word. There was nothing else to say. It was too late for apologies.

Spy watched him for a moment before continuing on his way. Admittedly, he’d handled that poorly. Terribly, in fact. Still, the boy needed to _know_. After everything he’d been through. More than that, Spy couldn’t believe that his counterpart had promised something he hadn’t been planning to uphold.

Fuck it. Not his problem anymore.

With the mercs’ constantly shifting lives on and off the battlefield, change was too familiar to everyone. Scout would cope. The RED Spy would figure out just what to say to mend the situation, as he often did.

Spy shook his head, mouthing silent curses at more mental images of the enemy doctor. A hundred little bottles of pills on the battlefield wouldn’t help him; he’d tried before. They only fixed physical issues. Spy took deep breaths until the thoughts of the Medic left him. He then willed himself to move, to breathe some more.

He avoided confronting the RED Medic on the battlefield face-to-face. He’d managed quite well for the past while, and pounded a fist to a wooden wall as he got going.

His fear of the Medic was rational, but like the Scout, he’d have to cope. Spy refused to let the fear rule any part of him. Because, first and foremost, he had far more important things to tend to.

Where was his Sniper? He always kept himself relatively safe in comparison to the BLU Sniper, and without a doubt the recent respawn issues would make him even more careful.

When Spy finally found him, the Sniper wasn’t in his usual perch. Not surprising, considering that the BLUs had pushed up to around that point. The progress was slowing, though, making his current perch relatively secure. A few of them probably just didn’t want to expend the effort with the clouds rolling in, promising rain.

“ _Mon cher_ ,” he whispered.

“Spy!” Sniper exclaimed, nearly dropping his rifle in excitement. He lowered it onto the windowsill. “C’mere.” he murmured, folding his arms around his lover.

“Bonjour,” Spy replied.

“Hello to you too, love,” Sniper said, kissing the top of Spy’s head as he pressed him against the wall so that he was out of sight of the window.

“Thank you. For yesterday,” Spy said, smiling slightly.

Sniper blushed, remembering.

“Of course,” he replied.

“Really,” Spy insisted, pulling the Sniper in closer.

“Anything for you,” Sniper said, kissing him gently.

As they parted, the marksman’s gaze flicked out the window. Without a word, the Sniper pressed Spy against the wall, shielding him.

“What is happening outside?” Spy asked, trying to wriggle out so that the Sniper could take cover, too.

“Can’t tell. Whoever was shooting left, and it’s starting to drizzle,” Sniper whispered, scanning the outside warily.

A series of shots, impossibly loud in the Spy’s ears, rang out.

“Shit! He fucking hit me.” Sniper growled.

“Back up then. My teammates cannot hurt me, so do not worry about me,” Spy said, pulling the Sniper to the wall.

“Didn’t even get a look at who it bloody was,” Sniper muttered.

“You are bleeding, cher. We must go find a First Aid kit,” Spy said, tugging the Sniper out the roost.

“I’m fine,” Sniper insisted, picking his gun up again.

“Come,” Spy said, more forcefully. The Sniper followed him out.

“Someone’ll see us,” Sniper hissed.

“Unimportant,” Spy replied.

They walked around, light raindrops getting their clothes damp. Spy cursed. Why couldn’t there be more stupid health packs around the place?

“Stop,” Sniper said.

“It is not that much further. You will be fine,” Spy insisted, tugging at the marksman’s arm again.

“Stop,” Sniper repeated, voice strained, so the Spy stopped and turned. He paled at what he saw.

“But how...?” Spy whispered, horrified.

The Sniper had fallen to his knees on the ground, hands clutching his bloody chest.

“Dunno,” he said, studying his wet red-tinted hands as if he’d never seen them before.

“No, no, no... We have to go. Now. Before it is too late,” Spy whispered, shaking.

“I’ll be fine,” Sniper said, wiping the blood off on his pants.

Spy cursed, looking around. There wasn’t a medpack, nor Medic, in sight. The battle wasn’t close enough. He’d have to force the Sniper to get up.

“Lawrence, please get up. There is bound to be a medpack somewhere nearby,” Spy said, pulling at him again.

“Hurts,” Sniper groaned, falling to his side instead of standing up again.

“Please, please...” the Spy whispered, nearly tearing Sniper’s sleeve off.

There was yelling in the distance. Could it be...?

“ _Medic!_ ” the Spy shouted, not even caring if he was summoning the REDs to him.

No reply.

“ _Medic!_ ” he called again, more desperately this time.

“Stop, don’t strain yourself. And Konrad might hear you,” Sniper said.

“I do not care if he hears me,” Spy muttered.

He was going to continue his cry for help, except he was interrupted by a buzzing in his pocket. The phone...

Without hesitation, Spy whipped it out and hit the green ‘ANSWER’ button. Of course, despite anything and against everything, the voice on the other side of the line, the voice from the enemy team was familiar.  
As Medic said would happen, a bright blue light blazed up from the device, clearly visible in the sky.

“Adrien-Louis,” Spy said, shivering.

“Really think it’s a good idea to be shooting up a flare? Thought spies were supposed to be sneaky,” Sniper mumbled.

“We are,” Spy replied with a frown, feeling vaguely insulted.

“ _Stop fighting!_ ” RED Spy commanded into the phone.

“I’m sorry, what did he just say?” Sniper coughed.

“It is hard to hear, there is so much static. But he said to... to stop fighting,” Spy whispered, thoroughly perplexed.

He looked up, facing RED respawn. Sure enough, a bright pink light was piercing through the raindrops coming down.

“Respawn is down, Xavier. This wasn’t my doing, yet I’ve been in here all day and it’s not... the machinery isn’t responding. I’ve studied it before, non-invasively, but nothing of this magnitude has occurred and you _need_ to stop whatever you’re doing,” the RED Spy instructed through the haze of static.

“No,” Spy whispered, eyes widening. That couldn’t be. But it could, couldn’t it?

The system had been undergoing repairs for quite a while, according to the RED Spy. Not to mention he’d been studying it himself, of course. Did they have to shut it down and restart it for any changes to take place? Spy didn’t personally understand how the technology worked, just that it was supposed to _work_.

It couldn’t fail them now. Not now.

Not as the man he knew he loved was dying in front of him.

Sniper chuckled as the downpour worsened against them, drops of water beating down on his body, on Spy’s hunched back.

Streams of diluted blood flowed out across the ground, washing it with crimson.

The expected thunder started to rumble in the distance. Gloomy, dark grey clouds overhead were just barely illuminated by the sun behind them. A painful and cold cliché, to have the rain come just as the round was ending, just as Sniper was...

“ _Tu ne dois pas mourir_ ,” Spy sobbed, too overcome with emotion and pain to bother with keeping his languages in check. He pulled off his suit jacket and pressed it to the bleeding wounds in his lover’s side.

 _You cannot die_ , he thought quietly, the translation not quite passing his lips.

“Don’t bother. It’s soaked through,” Sniper said, voice hoarse, batting away the slick fabric.

Spy started to unbutton his white dress shirt, but Sniper lifted a gloved hand to his arm.

“Stop. It’s too late,” he said, impossibly calm. He didn’t mention that the shirt was wet from the rain anyway. They both knew.

“Je suis désolé, je suis très désolé - I am sorry... You were protecting me... Only trying to protect me...” Spy whispered, messily wiping the tears from his eyes with a forearm.

“It’s okay, spook. Don’t apologize,” Sniper murmured.

Spy threw his soggy gloves on the ground. They landed with a wet slap.

“It is my fault,” Spy said.

“No it’s not,” Sniper replied firmly.

Spy was about to protest, but Sniper jerked forward, coughing up blood. The Spy cried out, embracing the marksman.

Sniper collapsed back onto the ground with a gasp.

“You need to let me go now, love,” he said.

“Please do not _leave_ me,” Spy pleaded. He could feel how cold Sniper was getting; for the very first time he didn't feel warm, and a thousand pangs of regret overtook Spy.

He winced, realizing all of a sudden how he’d taken his lover for granted. His life, his existence, all of the little blanks in between that Spy hadn’t yet gotten to fill in by getting to know him better. They hadn’t even gotten to have dinner in town together yet.

Sniper took one of Spy’s hands, his grip weak but sure.

“Kiss me one more time, Xavier,” he said.

Suppressing another sob, Spy leaned over, and pressed his lips to his lover’s, tasting blood, tears, and the Sniper’s last breath...

It was a gentle whisper of words, impossibly familiar yet it was as if he was hearing them for the first time, because they were coming from his Sniper, who always insisted that he only spoke English.

“ _Je t’adore_.”

 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Spy, is that what it’ll take for you to fully drop the sarcastic ‘vous’? Your lover dying in your arms? _Cher, tu es trop têtu pour ton propre bien._
> 
> My darling reader, the story does not end here. I have more author’s comments to write.
> 
> Additionally, this entire fic started with the line in this chapter that begins, _'Sniper chuckled as the downpour worsened against them’_. After I wrote that page, I backtracked to what is now the beginning of the story.


End file.
